Chapter Text
“Is anyone there?” Hiro called out, his voice trembling as he clutched the ends of his sleeves, tugging them tighter around his arms.
The woods answered with silence.
It was dark. Cold. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that pressed in on his ears and made his chest feel tight. He was alone—completely, terrifyingly alone.
Ever since the sky had split open and swallowed him whole, tearing him away from his mother’s side, Hiro had been searching desperately for a way back. He didn’t know how long it had been—minutes, maybe hours—but with every step through the endless trees, his hope thinned. He had no idea where he was. No idea who—or what—might be out here.
Then he heard voices.
Hiro’s heart leapt into his throat. He straightened instantly, ears straining.
He wasn’t imagining it. Someone was nearby.
Relief surged through him so hard his knees nearly buckled. Finally. Help.
His feet moved before he could think, carrying him toward the sound—but as he drew closer, he slowed, then stopped entirely.
A tiger-man walked through the trees with long, deliberate strides. Beside him stumbled a girl, clearly struggling to keep up.
Unease prickled at Hiro’s skin. Something about them felt… wrong. Instinct took over, and he stayed hidden, trailing behind at a distance, hoping—praying—they might lead him out of the forest.
“I can’t believe all this is actually real,” the girl panted, breathless. “Back in Imperium, we were always taught the wilderness was just lava pits and… gross melons.”
Hiro mentally dubbed her Red.
The tiger-man halted abruptly and glanced back at her, eyes narrowing.
“The lava wastes are only one part of my land,” he said, slicing through a thick vine with ease. “There are others. The Diamond Glaciers. The Forever Rock. Boiling Beach.” His voice dropped, rough and rasping. “And this… is the Forest of Spirits.”
Hiro shivered.
That voice—deep, animalistic—carried something sick beneath it, like a growl that hadn’t quite healed.
The Forest of Spirits.
Hiro swallowed hard. Spirits? Ghosts?
Fear crept up his spine, cold and unwelcome, but he forced himself to keep moving. They continued forward, unaware of the small shadow following behind them.
“You Imperians,” the tiger-man went on, his tone darkening, “never imagined you’d have to deal with anything beyond your borders. But now, with the merge…” He let out a low, humorless huff. “No one is safe.”
Red grunted in response but said nothing.
Then Hiro stopped short.
Through the twisted trees ahead, something loomed—a structure half-swallowed by vines and time. A temple. At first glance, it seemed ancient and abandoned, but then he noticed the details: the massive wolf head carved above the entrance, curling horns, stone eyes watching from the dark.
Creepy didn’t even begin to cover it.
Hiro stared too long.
A hand clamped over his mouth.
Another arm snapped around his neck, yanking him backward into a crushing hold. Panic exploded through him. He kicked and thrashed, nails clawing uselessly at fur and fabric, but his cries were smothered beneath the tiger-man’s grip.
“I knew you were following us,” the tiger-man rumbled, his voice dark with amusement. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”
Hiro went still.
The weight of failure settled in his chest, heavy and suffocating. Why won’t my powers work? Fear made it hard to focus—hard to breathe.
The grip loosened just enough for the tiger-man to pull his hand away from Hiro’s mouth. Cold air rushed in.
“Who are you?” he demanded, studying Hiro’s face.
“I—I’m Hiro,” he stammered. “I’m just… lost.”
The tiger-man watched him closely, searching for any sign of a lie.
That was when Hiro felt it—the familiar tug of shadows responding to his fear. Relief flooded him as the darkness folded around his feet, pulling him down—
—and then spat him right back out.
He stumbled forward, landing hard at their feet.
Silence.
The tiger-man smirked.
“Tie him up,” he ordered.
Vines snapped tight around Hiro’s wrists and ankles before he could react. Great. Just great.
Bound and helpless, he was dragged toward the temple, his body jerking painfully with every step.
“Give it to me.”
The tiger-man held out his hand. Red hesitated only a moment before pulling something from her pocket and placing it in his palm.
Hiro watched helplessly, a thick vine shoved into his mouth to keep him quiet. Even if he wanted to scream, he couldn’t. His heart pounded as the ground beneath them began to hum.
Golden light burst from the earth, threads of it weaving into the temple’s entrance. The stone doors shuddered, glowing brighter and brighter before sliding open with a deep, resonant groan.
It was beautiful.
And horrifying.
As the two spoke—something about forbidden numbers, three or five, Hiro couldn’t tell—he focused on the knots binding him. His tail twitched, working carefully at the vines.
Almost.
So close.
Suddenly, everything spun.
The tiger-man grabbed him and tossed him over his shoulder with terrifying ease, one arm locking around Hiro’s waist like iron. Any hope of escape vanished instantly.
“Why are we bringing him?” Red asked, discomfort clear in her voice.
The tiger-man chuckled softly. “I have a feeling this little one will be useful.”
Red said nothing more.
As they entered the temple, the air grew thick and heavy. Wolf masks lined the walls, their empty eyes staring. At the center stood a massive gong, framed by yet another wolf’s head.
Hiro was thrown to the ground without warning. Pain shot through him as he hit the stone floor, biting down hard on the vine in his mouth to keep from crying out. Red winced but didn’t move. She followed orders.
The tiger-man stepped forward, lifting one of the masks high.
“Behold,” he declared, voice ringing with dark excitement. “The key to awakening the powers of a lost age. When the blood moon rises, we will gather the strongest beings from the merged realms…” His grin stretched wide. “And no one will be able to stop us.”
Hiro and Red exchanged a glance—wide-eyed and terrified.
One thing was painfully clear.
Hiro hadn’t been led out of the forest.
He’d been dragged straight into something far darker than he ever could’ve imagined.