Deep within the dangerous hollows, atop the branches of a towering tree, a boy lay fast asleep. Morning arrived, and golden rays pierced through the canopy, casting long streaks of light between the leaves. Birds flitted about, their cheerful chirps filling the air.

  Then suddenly his eyes shot open.

  “The exam!”

  Today was no ordinary morning. It marked the test that all young men, those who sought to prove their worth, had to face. Weeks of preparation had gone into this right of passage. If I go through my usual route, I can still catch breakfast, ”Cloud said as he leaped down from the large tree, landing with ease before dashing through the forest. Munching on an apple, I waved at passing farmers who wished me luck on my way to the big exam. As I neared the registration desk, I walked straight into a wall—

  No. Not a wall.

  A man.

  A large man in a ranger uniform. He towered over me, extending a rugged hand. I took it, and in that moment, recognition struck.

  James Vulric.

  The James Vulric—head ranger, legendary for his brute strength and razor-sharp instincts in emergencies. Among the rangers, they called him a gentle giant, though I’d heard tales of his wilder, more reckless days.

  I’d always measured myself against him, using him as a benchmark for where I should be. Physically, he was years ahead—an anomaly even among the most battle-hardened rangers.

  But if there was one area where I could stand on equal ground, it was situational creativity—my greatest strength as a candidate, and the skill I took the most pride in.

  Before I could say a word, he held up a tattered sheet with a few rips along the edges.

  “I believe this is yours, young man.”

  It was my old ranger recruitment poster, the one I’d picked up in town years ago. I always kept it on me—a quiet reminder of what I was training for.

  When I arrived at the registration desk, there was no line, allowing me to sign in quickly and slip into the crowd of testers.

  I barely had time to settle before I caught an evil eye from one of my best friends.

  “Cutting it close on the big day?” Drea whispered as I took my place beside her.

  “I needed the extra zzz’s, apparently. Plus, I brought breakfast.”

  I tossed her an apple with a grin.

  Drea caught it effortlessly, inspecting it with a smirk.

  “Fine. At least you made it for the important part.”

  Around us, murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some were buzzing with excitement over which ranger faction they’d be placed in. Others, confident in their skills with animals, were already claiming their spots among the Beast masters.

  The energy was undeniable—this exam wasn’t just a test. It was the first step toward the future we’d all been training for. Drea kept her voice low, not wanting to cause a scene during the proctor’s instructions. This was the most crucial moment, the proctor was about to outline the courses for this year’s annual ranger exam. “The exam consists of three distinct sections: The Thorned Grove, The Sporefen, and The Predator’s Den. Each presents its own challenges and each carries real risks. “You’ve all been given a safety beacon. If activated, it will alert nearby observers for intervention. However, using it means automatic disqualification. There are only fifteen observers across the entire course, so assume help isn’t coming and protect yourselves accordingly.”

  A dense pressure filled the space, making the air feel thicker as the seriousness of the exam took hold.

  “Passing is simple: survive your assigned section and reach the finish line in one piece. Now, we’ll divide you into your groups.”

  There weren’t any prodigies in this group like in past exams, but that didn’t mean there was a shortage of physically gifted examinees. I was smaller than most guys my age, with only grit to make up for it.

  Drea was assigned the Sporefen, a manageable challenge as long as she kept her face covered and moved at a steady pace. If she played it smart, she’d be out before the hallucinations even set in.

  Me? With my luck, I got the Predator’s Den.

  Easily the most dangerous section with guaranteed casualties. But the forest has been trying to devour me since I was a child so I’m ready. We were allowed to rent a weapon, but I had my favorite hunting knife. A beautiful five-inch blade, sharpened just

  yesterday. That would be enough.

  As we moved toward our assigned areas, Drea flashed a confident smile and gave me a thumbs-up. I returned the gesture before our groups split.

  Three hours. A bit slim for an early-morning hunt, but I’d make it work.

  Before we began, the proctor gave one final reminder.

  Remember, rangers are expected to protect the forest and to fight against it when necessary. All on their own strength. Now, do your best. A moment of silence. Then.

  Three flares shot into the sky, one for each section.

  The test had begun .I drew my knife as an eerie silence settled in.

  Only the sounds of the forest remained, birds calling,

  insects buzzing, the usual hum of life.

  We were told the primary predators here were Bloodmane Baboons. It was mating season, which meant the males would be abnormally aggressive. That also meant their movements would be more predictable.

  My group fanned out, some forming duos and trios, but mostly moving alone.

  I climbed a high tree with thick branches, one of the Blood manes favorite scouting spots. No signs. No droppings. Unusual.

  Even stranger, I’d barely heard their mating calls. A slow season still had noise. This? This was unnatural. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d heard a mating call. By now, every nerve in my body was on edge. I carefully maneuvered around for at least an hour searching for something to track. That’s when I reached a small hill. A few cautious steps into a clearing, and that’s when I saw it.

  Dozens of baboons. Dead.

  Candidates, too. Only a little over an hour since the start and this many dead. How? I examined the bodies and noticed deep slash marks on some. Others were in pieces, there was something in the area that wasn’t just feeding.

  I took cover in a large bush, struggling to steady my breathing. My body was slick with sweat, my mind racing to keep calm. Claw marks, deep, jagged, scarred the trees. They also tore through the bodies.

  A Dire Ursan.

  But why here? This isn’t even its territory.

  No time to figure that out, I needed higher ground.

  I burst from the bush, sprinting.

  and stopped dead.

  A baby bear.

  It stood in my path, tilting its head in a playful posture.

  Shit.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  I raised my arms, trying to scare it off, knowing full well what this meant.

  As I bent to grab a rock to throw.

  A shadow swallowed the light around me. Hot, rumbling breath prickled the back of my neck. The scent of damp fur and raw meat filled my lungs .I turned, slowly. Golden eyes. Glowing like embers. Towering. Close. She inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. Her claws flexed, carving trenches in the dirt. A low, guttural rumble vibrated

  through my chest. No time. No chance. I lunged for my safety beacon. A blur of motion. Claws like scythes. A deafening crack. Agony. Fire seared through my bicep as the beacon shattered. I ran.

  Through the fog, through the trees, through my own pulse pounding in my ears.

  I can’t outrun this. Suddenly a crumbling sound beneath my feet began. My footing was gone and I was completely off balance.

  The ground gave way. Before I could react, I was falling. I’m looking for anything to grab onto or plunge my knife in, to no avail. I begin bracing for the fall. A few fractured bones and my bleeding arm were the

  extent of my injuries. I was fortunate. This sinkhole had to be at least twenty feet down. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and moss. Ancient walls loomed around me, cracked and swallowed by time, covered in twisting vines and unreadable runes. A deep, unnatural hum vibrated in my chest. Just ahead, an altar, half-buried beneath overgrowth. The stone was worn, yet something about it felt alive. Curiosity replaced my earlier unease as I realized I’d never heard of underground caves in this area. This place even seemed like it had once been part of a temple. Fascination overtook me, making me momentarily forget my situation and injuries. My arm throbbed. Blood still dripped from my wound, splattering onto the nearby altar’s surface. The reaction was instant. A flash of fluorescent green light burst forth, the runes around me igniting in sequence. The vines shuddered, as if awakening.

  Then they moved .A seed pulsed in my hand. Warm, then burning. I tried to drop it, but my fingers wouldn’t open.

  Then the vines came. They burst from the seed in a surge of green light, wrapping around my arm, my chest, my throat—spinning, tightening ,sinking. I staggered back, gasping, but they moved with purpose, not violence. They weren’t just wrapping around me. They were fusing into me. A sharp pressure struck the center of my back, and I felt something anchor into my spine—deep, cold, almost surgical. It coiled downward, threading itself into me like it had always belonged there. I collapsed to my knees, every breath shaking.

  And then-The world emptied.

  The forest vanished. No sound. No motion. Just a white void. I floated in it- no sense of time, no sense of self. The vines whispered- not with words, but with feeling. They pulled my thoughts apart. My fears. My fears. My anger. My longing. They sifted through my soul like roots testing soil. I wasn’t being granted power I was being examined. One final pulse surged through my spine. The pain flashed bright, then everything returned. The forest, the sounds, the weight.

  But the vines remained. Humming under my skin, coiled around my ribs, laced into my bones. I wasn’t sure where they ended and I began. And I wasn’t sure I ever would be whole again. Then, a voice. Deep, resonant, neither human nor entirely foreign. “Your spirit is unproven, yet the forest stirs within you. Let the trial begin.”

  A final pulse of light erupted from the altar, searing through my body. Then a silence.

  The vines loosened. I stumbled forward, gasping.

  My arm, my wounds were gone.

  But something was wrong.

  The vines hadn’t just released me. They were a part of me.

  Tendrils coiled unnaturally from my forearm, shifting, moving, alive.

  The vines twitched around my forearm, responding to my thoughts in a way that felt, instinctive. Not like an extra limb, not yet, but something closer. Like climbing a tree I had known all my life.

  Testing my grip, I reached for the wall. The vines latched on, tightening just enough to hold my weight. They knew what to do.

  I climbed, pulling myself upward with surprising ease. Hand, foot, vine, repeat. The motion was smooth, natural, like I’d done this before. Except I hadn’t.

  By the time I reached the surface, my breath was ragged, my arms sore. I glanced down just in time to see the ruins shifting, the hole closing in on itself, as if swallowing any evidence of its existence. As the ground sealed itself, I felt something settle deep in my chest. A presence, a whisper in the back of my mind. Faint. Watching. A makeshift sinkhole? I’d never heard of such a thing. At least not with a mysterious temple lying beneath.

  A deep, guttural roar snapped me back to the present.

  The Ursan.

  It was still looking for me.

  I ducked low, creeping behind a thick tree. This time, I had the element of surprise.

  The beast’s face and massive frame loomed just ahead, its heavy breaths fogging the cool air. It sniffed the ground, searching. Clueless.

  Now’s my chance. The vines coiled around a thick branch above, tightening like a noose. I inhaled sharply, yanked hard.

  Snap.

  Not even close.

  The Ursan ripped free with ease, its monstrous strength splintering bark like paper. It twisted toward me, golden eyes burning.

  Shit.

  A wave of exhaustion slammed into me, sudden and overwhelming. My limbs trembled, my breath came short. Why?

  Was it the power? The blood loss? Did this ability drain me somehow?

  I had no time to find out.

  The Ursan charged.

  The ground thundered beneath its weight. I braced myself, knowing I was too slow, too tired. This was it.

  Then.

  A shriek of agony.

  The beast staggered back, roaring in pain. A bowstring thrummed—a sharp whistle through the air—

  then impact. The arrow buried itself deep into the beast’s right eye. A guttural howl split the silence, raw with agony. I blinked. What? A second later, another arrow struck the ground.

  Flames erupted instantly.

  The fire roared between me and the Ursan, scorching the ground, forcing me backward. The heat seared my skin as I shielded my face.

  Through the inferno, I saw the creature hesitate, its wounded eye leaking dark blood, its body tense with pain. Then, with a final snarl, it turned and retreated into the trees.

  I exhaled, heart hammering.

  A shadow dropped from the branches above.

  A boy, my age. He landed lightly, straightening with an air of effortless confidence.

  “Vines won’t work on thick hide like that,” he said.

  I narrowed my eyes, still catching my breath.

  Who the hell was this guy? Too young to be an instructor but he wasn’t among the candidates. Before I could respond, a distant horn blast echoed through the trees. The emergency signal. I was curious about this blindfolded archer but this was not atypical exam. Then came the voices. Dozens of them.

  I turned toward the clearing, where the rest of the candidates had gathered. And what I saw made my stomach drop.

  It looked like a battlefield.

  Candidates, some unconscious, some barely standing, were being tended to by doctors. Blood stained the ground. The instructors moved with urgency, helping the wounded, calling out orders.

  One of them, a broad-shouldered ranger with a stern expression, climbed atop a fallen tree and raised his voice.

  The exam is over! All candidates are to report to the clearing immediately!

  Silence. Then murmurs of confusion, frustration. But no one argued. I swallowed hard. That was it?

  Months of preparation. Years of dreaming. And now? The test didn’t even matter.

  I clenched my fists, but the archer just smirked.

  “Guess you’re gonna have to find another way to prove yourself, huh? ”After getting a better look, I realized this archer looked familiar. Tall, athletic, with a blindfold and medium-length dreadlocks. If I had to guess, he was from the Nyoka Clan, a reclusive group that lived outside the village, shrouded in mystery. Though they rarely interacted with outsiders, their reputation was well-known: silent protectors, striking from the shadows before threats could reach us.

  The capital never sent soldiers this deep into the wilderness, leaving our village to fend for itself. That’s where the Nyoka came in, independent, but vital to our survival.

  The archer lowered his bow. “Thanks for the save, I owe you one.” I said.

  He waved a hand dismissively. “Forget about it. You can repay me by explaining that strange ability of yours.”

  I exhaled, still feeling the energy coursing through me. “Truth be told, I just discovered it. I’m learning as I go.”

  A majority of the village gathered in the town center as Chief Harrow addressed this year’s ranger exam. Murmurs spread through the crowd about an Eidolon user and the omens associated with it. The chief acknowledged the high death toll and took responsibility.

  I hate that he had to take the blame. It felt like a freak accident, until new information changed everything. The forest was more sporadic and uncontrolled than ever. That

  explained the Ursan encounter, the animal migrations, and the unstable terrain. The landscape would continue shifting, becoming far more dangerous than usual.

  “Voyages outside the mainland must be necessary until further notice,” the chief announced.

  A brief Q&A followed, addressing common concerns. It was mostly reassurances made to prevent widespread panic. Then, Chief Harrow pulled me aside. I could tell he was concerned, but he still kept that same warm smile that gives this village life.

  “I’m told you’ve been granted a unique Eidolon ability that you’re still learning to control.”

  “Yes, Chief,” I replied.

  “You must go to the Veilwoods to obtain an artifact that will bond your Eidolon closer to you. More specifically, it’ll assimilate your body to the Eid—”

  A wet crunch cut him off.

  Something jagged and hungry erupted from my shoulder—a mouth of thorns, dripping saliva, buried deep in the chief’s neck.

  Blood spattered the floorboards.

  The chief gagged, hands clawing at his throat—but the plant held on, its roots squirming under his skin like worms.

  And then—

  It smiled at me.

  Not a metaphor. Actual lips peeled back over its teeth, glistening with his blood.

  “Wha—?!” The chief’s voice snapped me back.

  He stood unharmed, still mid-sentence: “—olon without rejection.”

  My breath vanished.

  No blood. No wound. Just the echo of a scream I never heard.

  But my shoulder itched. And the chief’s eyes—

  He’d felt it too.

  I ran.

  I headed home to pack, anxious and terrified.

  Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the archer appeared again.

  “Heard you’re heading to the Forbidden Veilwoods. Care for a temporary partnership?” He spoke with confidence, like he already knew the answer.

  “As long as you bring the sna-wait. What’s your angle?”

  “I need a rare herb, for a sick family member.” he admitted. “With the forest shifting, it’ll only be found there.”

  Someone as capable as him would be a huge asset on this journey. I accepted.

  “Great. We’ll set out for Tarnath at first light.” He turned to leave but glanced back with a slight smirk. “Oh, and the name’s Doug.”

  Then, just as quickly as he arrived, he vanished.

  I gathered my things and prepared to leave the next morning.