Realm of Thorns

The Tikbalang's Circle

The tikbalang stood towering before Joaquin, nearly seven feet tall, its muscled body gleaming in the dim light filtering through the canopy. Its thick, corded arms flexed subtly as it shifted its weight, the creature's enormous biceps and chiseled torso exuding an almost casual strength. Joaquin's eyes were drawn to its legs—long, powerful limbs that ended in cloven hooves. They scraped the ground softly, sending shivers up his spine with each subtle movement. The air around him felt dense, heavy with an unnatural stillness, as though the forest itself was holding its breath.

Joaquin swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. His legs felt like lead, but his heart pounded like a drum in his chest. He couldn't move, pinned under the creature's gaze—its yellow eyes glowing like embers in the suffocating darkness. It was as if those eyes could see right through him, peeling back every layer of his fear, his guilt, his deepest insecurities.

The tikbalang's lips curled back slightly, revealing large, unnervingly human teeth. "Lost, are you?" it said, its voice a low rumble that vibrated through the air and into Joaquin's bones. The creature's words were laced with amusement, but there was an edge to it, like the gleam of a knife.

Joaquin's mouth went dry, and he stammered, searching for words that refused to come. The tikbalang tilted its head, watching him intently, eyes widening with a kind of playful curiosity. "Hmm, no words for me?" it asked, stepping closer, its hooves crunching against the forest floor. "That's alright. I prefer when they run."

Something in the way it said "run" sent a jolt of terror through Joaquin's body. Without thinking, he turned and sprinted, his legs moving as though possessed by the primal instinct to survive. Behind him, the tikbalang's laughter boomed through the trees—a deep, rich sound that made the forest feel alive with the creature's amusement. "It's a game of tag, then, isn't it?" it called after him, the sound of its hooves following close behind.

Joaquin ran faster than he had ever run in his life, dodging low-hanging branches and leaping over fallen logs. The sharp twigs and leaves scratched at his skin, but he barely noticed, the adrenaline surging through him like wildfire. His breaths came in ragged gasps, and the ground beneath his feet blurred as he pushed himself harder. In the chaos, he glimpsed a large rock with a strange blue flower glowing faintly atop it. For a moment, it struck him as odd—something so beautiful in the midst of his terror—but he had no time to think about it. He darted left, hoping to lose the tikbalang in the maze of trees.

The sound of hooves thundered through the forest, pounding in sync with Joaquin's frantic heartbeat. His legs ached with each desperate stride, muscles screaming for relief as he pushed himself to the brink. The branches tore at his skin, and the uneven ground threatened to trip him with every step, but he didn't dare slow down. The tikbalang's heavy footsteps were a constant reminder of the danger lurking just behind him. His mind was consumed with one thought: Run.

His lungs burned, gasping for air that felt too thick, too heavy in the dense atmosphere of the forest. Sweat trickled down his face, stinging his eyes, but he blinked it away, refusing to stop. The eerie glow of the trees flashed by in a blur, their gnarled roots rising from the ground like claws reaching for his feet, as if even the forest wanted to trap him. His legs screamed in agony, every breath he drew felt like fire in his chest, but he kept going, fueled by sheer terror.

Then, abruptly, the sound of hooves behind him vanished. It was as if the earth itself had swallowed the noise, plunging the forest into an unnatural silence. Joaquin's heart still pounded in his ears, but now, it was the only sound. His feet slowed against his will, his legs trembling with exhaustion, and he risked a glance over his shoulder.

Nothing.

The creature was gone. For the first time since the chase began, Joaquin allowed himself to stop. He doubled over, hands on his knees, his breath coming in heavy, ragged bursts. His lungs felt raw, like he'd been breathing in smoke, but there was no more running. Relief, like a cool wave washing over him, flooded his body, and for a brief moment, the grip of fear loosened. He was alive. He had escaped.