“For The Glory of the Ancients is Nigh!

  Drink brothers! Drink sisters!

  Drink of the blood of the infidels, for they come to disturb the sleep of our Lords, and in doing so, they herald the destruction of all that we hold dear!

  Repeat with me!

  Oh, Blood Lords of the Dark Monolith, pardon them for their insolence, pardon them with death.

  Like Stillwater, accept our placid offerings, and accept our presence at your feet, as the servant of your new order.

  Give unto us what you have given to your best, and let us feast on the flesh of the meeks, for they are unworthy of your greatness!

  And Strike STRIKE down the heathens, the heretics that approach your doors, looking to steal from you and your lambs.

  Defend us from the reviled, for they don’t know better.”

  Snippet from the “Words of the All-Powerful ” of Grand Cultist Maher Ar Stahl, leader of the Black Monolith covenant.

  A few hours had passed since his encounter with the weird predators, and Omri's idle island-conquering dreams had to be set aside to focus on his more immediate needs, mainly, spotting something to actually eat, since his hopes of an easy and quick fruit-picking trip were dashed.

  Thinking about the few implements he would need to be fairly confident in a fight against the beast, the boy cut down a second bamboo stalk and started to sharpen its point in a rough v shape, strong enough to pierce a fish, and not brittle enough to instantly break against something meaner.

  Finding the green patch had not been very hard, but finding good stalks that could be used both to hunt and defend himself had proved more of a challenge, and as the sun kept moving in the sky, Omri’s feet quickly carried him towards the next task.

  The trek back to the beach was a tense affair, his steps slow and calculated as he was taking care not to be spotted by anything bigger than the tiny monkeys that kept dancing in the tangle of branches above him, while every so often, he etched some marks in the trunks surrounding him.

  The forest fell silent multiple times, and he had quite a few chance encounters with the big-eyed primates, the curious creatures' gaze following him on the quick climbs he used to put some space between himself and the unidentified dangers of the grove.

  As the horizon started to peek more and more between the now-scarce trees, Omri's stomach grumbled a bit, a small reminder of his current situation, but the boy ignored it, already used to the uncomfortable feeling.

  His thoughts went back to his “camping trips” in the Velmerswoods, each outing a new lesson on survivalism by master Belltram, the jovial man facade hiding one of the meanest streaks in the entire monastery.

  A weary sigh shook Omri’s shoulders.

  “Well, at least I’m not tied up this time… though, I’ve got to give him credit, the mad bastard knew his stuff”.

  His first encounter with the island wildlife was not a catastrophe, mainly due to man’s teaching. Even now, as he made his way towards the sandy beach, the youth’s gaze was darting around, categorizing his surroundings, checking for danger and useful materials.

  He mentally noted the position of a sickly looking tree for later use, and once he reached a far enough spot on the white grainy ground, he planted one of his bamboo spears, and with the other started to scrape a wide, shallow depression in the sand.

  After breezing through the task, he backtracked to the forest edges and started to hack at the dead plant.

  The rotten trunk quickly gave way, and the boy checked the top for dry branches, cutting off some smaller pieces, and, in a couple of short trips, he stacked the wood in two piles near what was hopefully becoming his campfire.

  Taking a bit of time to find some dry leaves, which filled his makeshift hole, he scraped a handful of shavings in the middle of the campfire, and after a small grunt of appreciation, stood up to pick up his spear, glancing at the sun, still moving relentlessly in the blue expanse of the sky.

  A slick sheen of sweat covered the youngster from head to toe, and the sea appeal got stronger, both as a source of food and a cool reprieve from the afternoon’s heat.

  Omri knew he was on a timeline, but felt comfortable with the hours he had left, making a quick pace to reach the shallow waters to then locate a bend in the sandy reef that would work as a good hunting spot.

  A twinge in his brow rose, as the memory of his first time fishing with a spear came.

  A small child, no older than ten, stood on the side of the Ers river, stubbornly stabbing one of its many ponds like that particular one owed him money, while dodging a slew of little stones that were thrown at him by a shabbily dressed man, boisterously laughing at his attempts.

  “Panic is the enemy, Twig. You hunt as you fight! Still your heart, and do what you have to to survive. And when resources are scarce, remember that slow is smooth, and smooth is fast.”

  Another rock left his hands, hitting the kid on his left buttocks, and a small yelp left his lips.

  The man's expression hardened.

  “Doing the same thing twice because you fucked up is always, always slower, than taking your time and doing it right. Now, that yell scared the fish, so you’ll need to stand very still until they calm down.”

  The rocks didn’t stop coming.

  Still thoughtlessly eyeing the plump fishes lazily swimming in the coral reef, Omri's shoulders shook, a twinge of sadness on his lips “It’s a shame he ended up not boarding the Maiden… hopefully he’ll get a stroke when they have to return the money from my sale. A man can always dream “.

  Hoisting his weapon in a practiced movement, his body positioned towards the sun so no shadow would alert the prey of his presence, he struck true, a fluid, almost bored motion.

  Looking at the fat, multicolored catch currently flopping on the tip of his glorified stick, a smile rose on the young face.

  “Well, that was easy”. As fast as it came, the smile left “Hopefully, the fire won’t be too much trouble”.

  The fire was, in fact, quite a bit of trouble. Not too much, but enough that when the first threads of smoke rose from the stick he was spinning, and the shavings finally caught fire, relief flooded him, as he finally looked at the skies darkening overhead, their omen of danger beaten by the quickly rising flame in front of him.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  His work done, he skewered the fish on one of the smaller sticks as the bonfire’s blaze spat and crackled, its light pushing back the jungle’s gaze.

  Holding his prize over the live flame, he looked at the skin blistering, fat dripping into the cinders below. The smell was nothing special, the lack of spices and salt resulting in what usually would be a lackluster meal, and yet, to Omri, it was divine.

  The first prey he caught, the first step towards his goals taken.

  Of course, survival wouldn’t always be so easy, but the white meat beneath his teeth went a long way to assuage his worries.

  He now knew that he could get by without too much risk, as long as he was slow and careful, and nothing too surprising happened to disrupt what was likely to be a daily routine for the foreseeable future.

  But thriving was a whole different beast. The presence of pack hunters meant danger and the fact that said pack hunters were creatures he never even knew existed made things even worse.

  If those things prowled the island, what more could hide in its depths? From what he managed to see, the landmass size was not to be underestimated, and exploring it would take many months of carefully laid steps.

  Devouring his meal, Omri threw down the remains of the fish, grabbed a stick from the smoldering fire, and covered the pit, not leaving the carcass to attract unwanted company.

  He then turned to the forest, and, makeshift torch in one hand, spear in the other, he made his way towards his new home.

  Taking the first steps in the greenery, the last lights of the sunset left behind, darkness fell like a shroud's cold embrace, driven away only by the dancing light he held.

  Nonetheless, the boy had to be quick, his urgency rising together with the surrounding sounds, and so he was, darting from tree to tree, looking for the marks he left during the day.

  After a tense half hour, that felt more like an eternity, Omri finally got back to his hiding place, and barricaded the cave entrance with his pile of driftwood and moss, leaving only a slit to let the lights from the stars shine true.

  The jungle’s chorus swelled, quickly reaching a swift crescendo of screeches and howls, a rustle of unseen things moving in the black of the night acting as an omnipresent background for the forest.

  Then, suddenly, silence.

  A guttural roar split the night, loud like a thunderclap, deep and resonant, vibrating his chest as the main tower's Big Bell did.

  It came from the depths of the island, where the vegetation thickened into primordial darkness.

  A second later, an answering snarl followed, higher-pitched but no less intimidating than the first, contesting the primal challenge.

  Terrible crashing sounds broke into the cliff walls, the groans of tortured wood suddenly splitting, evoking pure, unadulterated animal fear in the boy’s bones.

  “Those were definitely not the fucking otters”.

  The battle raged on for what felt like hours, and after a final symphony of titanic brutality, silence rushed in, heavier than before, thick with the loser’s blood, only broken by the beast's thin whimpers.

  He would remember this moment, wedged into the cave’s deepest recess, trying to relax his taut muscles, for many years to come, not as one of his proudest, but as the one that truly woke him up to his new reality.

  The jungle’s noises once again came online, waxing and waning, the scuttling of insects mixed with the mournful cry of a night bird, the thousands of sounds of wildlife trying to survive the night clashing with each other in a welcome cacophony of life, a stark contrast to the silence that came before.

  Omri’s thoughts were a tangle, his earlier confidence shaken. Forcing himself to breathe deeply, he fell into a cycle, inhaling and exhaling slowly, forcing his beating heart to calm down.

  Adrenaline, terror, and fatigue battled inside him, but only one could come on top, and thus, the boy quickly fell into a troubled sleep.

  He woke up with the first lights of the new day, the rusty taste of fear again present in his parched throat, while the cave’s chill had seeped into his bones.

  He unsteadily got up, balancing on the balls of his feet, his muscles screaming in protest as he unfurled from the balled position he adopted to preserve heat through the night.

  Outside, the jungle exhaled its morning cry, a chorus of prey and predators hiding from each other, chasing each other, a blanket of indifference covering the territorial carnage that had unfolded hours earlier between what he assumed were two of the apex predators of the island.

  Or at least hoping they were the apex predators, and hoping that the night silence had somehow enhanced what he heard.

  Because what he heard was fucking massive.

  He crawled to the cave entrance. Dislodging the barricade of dry wood, and still somewhat charged by the previous day's “feast,” he made his way to the nearby stream, plunging his head in the cold water to fully wake up, drinking greedily from the rivulet.

  Omri knew that the previous day had gone as well as it could, but be it luck or skill, he needed to be prepared for everything the forest threw at him, and for that, he needed more information.

  Deciding on a course for his morning, he went back to his cliffside hideout, looking for the tallest tree he could find.

  He found his mark near the thick edge above him, a gnarled giant with titanic roots wider than Omri’s outstretched arms, its canopy piercing the sky, a crown of branches heavy with countless intertwined vines.

  Looking at the trunk's size, the boy let out a sharp whistle.

  “That’s it”.

  He started his methodical climb trying to find the best angle to get up the rocky cliff, his fingertips finding purchase in the small, sharp crevices still wet from the morning dew.

  Halfway up the rock wall, he glanced below, eying the verdant groves composing the forest canopy from above, a myriad of colorful critters flying around the treetops, uncaring in their pursuit of food, for them or their offspring.

  Almost mesmerized by the view, the youngster took a moment for himself, lodging his leg and elbow in a larger-than-average scaffold, before resuming his climb.

  After a grueling few minutes, he managed to reach the king's gnarled roots and, taking a deep breath before reaching for the trunk, started to hoist himself up.

  The higher he ascended, the colder the air grew, the cutting wind buffeting the tree thick with the reek of decaying plant matter, the myriad vines flowering and dying in fast-paced cycles.

  At last, he breached the canopy.

  The island sprawled beneath him like a living emerald, thriving with life.

  To the north, or right in front of him, the rocky cliff kept going up, the moss growing scarcer, massive natural formations previously hidden from his view by the vegetation dotting its sides, all smaller brothers of his current nest.

  Eastward, a crescent lagoon glinted, separated from the open sea by a sandbar long, sleek, and promising a rich bounty to whoever braved its waters.

  South, the verdant maze thickened into a primordial tangle, broken only by the scarred remains of a landslide, dislodged trees and rocks dotting the upturned hearth.

  And to the west, the horizon boiled, thick with storm clouds the size of mountains.

  Omri committed it all to memory, and his gaze fell nearer, scouting for recognizable landscapes in the vicinity of his hideout.

  From his vantage point, he could see everything: the predator’s clearing, the stream’s serpentine path, and the far shores of the beach where he had his campfire the day before.

  And looking at the idyllic sights before him, a fire lit inside him. This place was a treacherous paradise, as beautiful as it was dangerous, and much of the danger was still unknown.

  And yet…the freedom of it all, the sights displayed before him, the primal forces in play everywhere around him.

  It was exhilarating. It made him feel alive in a way he never felt before, in a way that he sure had stopped feeling once the news of his sale was announced to him.

  The twinge of sadness at the memory shook him out of his reverie, and with a last glance at the thundering clouds in the distance, the boy prepared to make his climb back to the forest floor.

  A busy day was awaiting him.