Songs of Souls

001: Different Fates, One Destiny

Eardwood Forest suffocated with every groan and creak, like a band tightening around Deynfif's chest. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled; his skin crawling as if the shadows themselves were watching him. The gnarled trunks scraped his skin, cold and rough. Wind choked his nostrils with the stench of rot, pushing him back with every breath.

A warmth pulsed against his back as his brother, Hirua hissed, the sharp sound cutting through the oppressive silence. The faint heat radiating from his brother's fire blade contrasted with the chilling dampness. Shadows writhed, and a flash of acid green pierced the gloom – an eye, or a trick of the forest?

Thorns snagged, their bite a jarring reminder of the dangers lurking beneath the vibrant green. Each step sunk him deeper into the muck, the squelch of decay a nauseating chorus. Only the rough, reassuring feel of the earth wand in his hand offered a semblance of stability.

A stumble behind him, a sharp yelp cut short, and the undergrowth erupted in a flurry of sound – cracking branches, rustling leaves, a heavy thump. Then, the distinct scrape of cloth against skin, a muffled tightening. No pained cry, only the familiar low hum of battle-eagerness emanating from his other brother, confirming Einntyr was more excited than hurt.

Each creaking bough, each rustle was like frozen stones on his skin. The air buzzed with whispers, and the silence thrummed with tension.

"There," he murmured, stopping sharp. He pointed towards a clump of twisted trees, where a patch of ferns lay flattened. "Fresh tracks."

He knelt, fingers tracing the arm-length gouges in the soft earth. The tracks were deep, the edges sharp and distinct. Each print formed a near-perfect triangle, the splayed points hinting at immense weight. A faint whiff of musk clung to the disturbed soil, the undeniable scent of a porcine beast.

Hirua crouched low, studying the disturbed earth. "Muckledeor," his voice barely a whisper. "Bigger than usual."

Einntyr nodded. "A worthy challenge!"

He shot Einntyr a stern look. "Focus now. This won't be easy."

Muscles coiled tight, senses peeled raw, as he crept forward. The forest fell silent, but the stillness was unnatural, oppressive. It seemed every living creature had been silenced by an unseen force. A gust of wind swept through his hair, cold and probing, like the unseen eyes of the forest upon him – then, a low snort shattered the quiet, followed by the unmistakable sound of something massive crashing through the undergrowth.

"Behind!" A sharp cry, a surge of adrenaline. Danger!

GRRRRROOOOOOAAAaaa!

From the foliage exploded a hulking beast of muscle and fur, its enormous horns gleaming with menace. He thrust his wand downwards, a jagged earth wall erupting from the ground – a frantic barrier against the beast's charge. The wall shattered like brittle clay as the muckledeor thundered through. Too strong!

A blur of black and red – Hirua – lunged, fire dancing along his blade, searing the creature's flank. It roared, blood welling from the wound, and whipped its head in a frenzy around.

Hirua rolled away as the muckledeor lowered its horns for another charge. A sickening crunch echoed through the clearing, followed by a heavy thud that sent a jolt of fear through him. He whipped his head towards Hirua, heart hammering against his ribs. No!

"Brother!" Einntyr bellowed as he launched a rock at the enraged beast. The muckledeor lumbered towards Einntyr, rage twisting its massive head, steam blasting from its nostrils.

Hirua lay sprawled against the oak, but his chest rose and fell in ragged gasps. He's alive. His brother was grimacing, hand clutching his shoulder. Realizing that there was no blood stain on his brother, tension drained from his shoulders as a held breath escaped his lungs in a rush.