Page 4

T he drone of the council chamber is a familiar weight, a blanket of murmurs and debated words that usually settles my beast. Today, it chafes. It is a cage of sound I wish to tear apart.

“The blight spreads from the northern fields, my Prince,” Elder Malek says, his voice a dry rustle like dead leaves.

He gestures with a gnarled hand toward the holographic map shimmering in the center of the room.

“The healers' remedies have failed. Our harvest will be a fraction of what is needed to see us through the dry season.”

I stare at the map, at the creeping sickness represented by a pulsating red haze. I should be analyzing crop rotation patterns, considering the controlled burn protocols, ordering a tactical response. My mind, however, is not on the blight. It is in the forest.

A scent.

It has been tormenting me for two cycles, a ghost on the wind. Unfamiliar. Intoxicating. It is a scent that speaks of rich soil, sweet nectar, and something else... something uniquely female and utterly alien. It hooks into my senses, pulling me eastward, toward the deep woods.

The beast within me stirs, a restless predator pacing the confines of my control. Find. Go.

“Jaro?” my father's voice cuts through the haze. Chief Torq sits on the high seat, his gaze sharp, missing nothing. “Your counsel is sought.”

I force my attention back to the red blight on the map.

“The soil is tired. We have over-farmed the northern sector. We should have rotated to the southern fields two seasons ago, as I advised.” My voice comes out deeper than intended, a low rumble that makes several of the younger council members shift uneasily.

My cousin Vex, seated across the circle, smirks. It is a subtle expression, barely a twitch of his lips, but I see it. He sees my distraction. He thrives on any perceived weakness.

“A sound observation, cousin,” Vex says, his voice smooth and laced with false deference. “Though perhaps hindsight is a luxury we cannot currently afford. The tribe needs a solution for now , not a reminder of past debates.”

The beast snarls. Challenge him. Rip the smirk from his face.

I clench my fists under the stone table, my claws extending and scraping against the rock. I force them to retract, the muscles in my forearms screaming in protest. Then, the burning starts.

It is a searing heat on my chest, right over my heart, as if a hot coal has been pressed to my skin. I fight the urge to gasp, to claw at my tunic. It is the second time I have felt it today. The sensation is tied to the scent, to the overwhelming compulsion to move .

“Jaro, are you well?” Kyra's soft voice is a whisper from beside me. My sister. Her intelligent eyes are filled with concern, not the calculating curiosity I see in Vex's.

“I am fine,” I grind out, my jaw tight.

But I am not fine. The scent is stronger now, so vivid I can almost taste it.

It is a siren's call that drowns out the elder's droning voice.

My vision sharpens, the edges of the room tinged with gold.

The beast is close to the surface, fighting for release.

It wants to run, to hunt, not for food, but for the source of that scent.

“Perhaps the Prince is merely contemplating the gravity of our situation,” Elder Malek says, though his gaze is wary. He has seen the flash of gold in my eyes. They all have. The old ones whisper. They remember the legends my father dismissed as fables. The heart-bond. A myth. A weakness.

Another wave of burning washes over my chest. I push back from the table, the stone scraping loudly in the sudden silence.

“Forgive me, my Chief, Elders,” I say, my voice a low growl I can no longer control. “A matter of territorial security requires my immediate attention.”

My father's eyes narrow. “What matter is more pressing than the tribe's food supply?”

“A perimeter breach,” I lie, the words tasting like ash.

“An energy signature, unidentified, near the western forest. It must be investigated.” It is not a complete lie.

The sensors did register a strange flare a few nights ago, a burst of heat and light that dissipated as quickly as it appeared.

We dismissed it as an atmospheric anomaly. Now, my beast tells me it was more.

“Then send a patrol,” Vex suggests, his tone dripping with false reason. “Surely the Prince's presence is not required for a simple scouting mission.”

He is goading me. He wants me to appear irrational. To lose control.

“I will lead the patrol myself,” I declare, my gaze locking with his. “I trust no one else to assess this potential threat.” I give a stiff, formal bow to my father. “I will report my findings upon my return.”

Without waiting for dismissal, I turn and stride from the chamber.

The heavy stone doors boom shut behind me, cutting off the eruption of concerned and speculative murmurs.

I can feel their eyes on my back. The eyes of the elders, filled with ancient fear.

The eyes of Vex, filled with hungry ambition.

“Jaro, wait.”

Kyra hurries to catch up with me in the long, torchlit corridor. She places a hand on my arm, her touch hesitant.

“What is it, brother? I have never seen you like this.” Her brow is furrowed with worry. “Your eyes... they keep changing.”

I resist the urge to pull away from her. Kyra is the keeper of our tribe's knowledge. She is smart, too smart. She sees more than I want her to. “It is nothing. A security matter.”

“It is not nothing,” she insists, her voice low. “You left the council. You never leave the council. The elders are whispering. They speak of the old tales, of the burning mark and a bond that steals a warrior's will.”

“Fables,” I snap, harsher than I intend. “Superstitious nonsense. I am investigating a disturbance on the perimeter. Nothing more.”

Her hand tightens on my arm. “The energy flare from two nights ago? That was dismissed as a storm echo.”

“The sensors were wrong,” I say, my patience wearing thin. The scent is pulling at me, a physical tug. I need to leave. I need to run. “I have to go.”

“Be careful, Jaro,” she says, her eyes pleading. “This feeling you have... I have read of it. It is not a simple hunt. It is a claiming.”

I pull my arm free. “I claim what I choose, little sister. Nothing claims me.”

I leave her standing in the corridor, her worried face a fleeting image in the flickering torchlight.

I stride into the main settlement, the familiar sights and sounds of Vara-Ka doing little to soothe the storm inside me.

Warriors nod respectfully as I pass, their greetings a blur of tradition I barely acknowledge.

Children scatter from my path, their games silenced by my thunderous expression.

I head directly for the warrior's barracks, my long strides eating up the ground. My dwelling, the largest in the settlement, sits near the eastern wall, a symbol of my status as heir. But I will not go there now. Home offers no comfort, only confinement. The forest calls.

Mine. Find. Take.

The beast's voice is a constant, primal drumbeat in my skull.

I find my lead hunters, Kael and Roric, near the training circle, sharpening their blades. They rise immediately when they see me, their expressions shifting from relaxed camaraderie to alert readiness.

“My Prince,” Kael says, his hand already moving to the hilt of his hunting axe. He is a solid warrior, dependable and direct.

“Kael. Roric,” I say, my voice clipped. “We leave now. Standard hunting gear, full patrol kit. Three days' provisions.”

They exchange a brief, questioning glance. “My Prince?” Roric asks, his brow furrowed. He is younger, more prone to questions than Kael. “What threat do we face? Is it the Ridge-Backs again?”

“An energy flare on the western sensors. Unidentified,” I repeat the same story I gave the council. “We investigate.”

“The elders seemed... concerned by your departure, Prince Jaro,” Kael says, his gaze steady. He is not questioning my command, but he is noting the political fallout. It is his duty as my second.

“The elders' concerns are noted,” I say, my tone leaving no room for further discussion. “My command is to move. Now.”

“Yes, my Prince,” they say in unison, their training overriding their curiosity. They move with the swift efficiency I expect, gathering their gear, alerting two other warriors to join our party.

While they prepare, I stand at the edge of the settlement, staring into the dense, violet-tinged forest. The scent is a river, flowing directly to me, wrapping around me, pulling me in. It promises... everything. It promises a cure for a sickness I never knew I had.

What is this madness?

I am Jaro, son of Torq. Warrior-Prince of the Vara-Ka. I am control. I am discipline. My beast is a weapon I wield, not a master I serve. Yet this compulsion is shredding a lifetime of training. It is a primal need that overrides duty, reason, and honor.

This is weakness.

I cannot show it. To my warriors. To Vex. To my father. I will frame this as a hunt, a patrol. I will find the source of this disturbance, and I will eliminate it. I will prove that these ancient legends are nothing but dust and whispers.

The hunting party assembles behind me, five of my best warriors, silent and ready. They carry spears and bows, their navy-blue skin marked with the symbols of our tribe. They are the strength of Vara-Ka, and they are loyal to me. For now.

I give the signal, a sharp, downward chop of my hand, and we move. We pass through the great, living gates of our settlement, the interwoven branches pulling back to allow us passage. The guards on the wall nod as we leave, their faces impassive masks.

The moment my feet touch the soft, mossy earth of the forest floor, the scent intensifies. The burning over my heart flares into a bonfire. The beast roars in triumph, a silent explosion of pure, possessive instinct inside my skull.

Close. So close.

I break into a run, my warriors falling into formation around me. We move as one, a silent, deadly current flowing through the alien trees. They think we are hunting a territorial threat. They are wrong.

I am being hunted. And I am running directly towards the trap.