38th of Season of Earth, 58th year of the 32nd cycle

  Alabaster sat alone, away from prying eyes. She stared at the ruins of her once mighty sect and wept. A day had passed since the attack, and only after the twenty-odd hours did she have time to sit and gather her thoughts.

  Treason. A pair of outer elders disabled defenses and alarms on the eastern side of the island, allowing the invaders to sneak in under the guise of three large ships. The demons outnumbered the elders two to one, and still lost the fight, their abominable element weaker when the battlefield lacked the dead and dying to draw their power from. That the Explorer’s Gate fought off a force twice their size, inflicting gruesome damage failed to lift her morale.

  Two venerables dead. Despite the imperial bounty, the fact that the venerables had slain five ninth realm cultists meant little to the survivors.

  “Newstar escaped.” Flameax sat beside her, an arm short.

  “They massacred our disciples.”

  “The battlefield was in their favor. They had a huge numbers advantage and surprise on their side, not to mention they attacked the weakest first, culling them for blood.” Flameax hesitated, but then spoke his mind. “The weak died, the strong and the cunning survived. We have suffered a setback, but we can raise a new generation of disciples in less than a hundred years.”

  Alabaster’s mouth twisted. Setback. Was that what you call a slaughter of several thousand youths? “More than half our outer elders died, some of them very strong and skilled for their realm.”

  Flameax nodded.

  “The old decided their opponents’ deaths were worth the few remaining years they had. Venerable Alorex could have escaped with her life, if she had been so inclined. Instead, she chose to warn us and give us an extra opening.”

  Alabaster disagreed. True, the disciplinary venerable could have retreated in her fight one against three, but that meant leaving three ninth realm cultists unchecked. They would have slain another venerable, freeing up more of their ilk, until they slaughtered everyone. Venerable Alorex really had a choice. Choice between her life and the sect’s continued survival, and she had made her choice, assuming anyone dared call it that.

  No, venerable Alorex had as much of a choice as a falling stone. She was doomed, and with her life she bought the lives and deaths of others. Her self detonation was the turning point. The cultists crumbled and retreated a handful of minutes later, but their carnage remained.

  The majority of elders gave chase, but other than sinking the Blood Cult’s stolen vessels, they did little damage. Faced with the pursuit, the demons had already slaughtered their weaker disciples, and using the strength of their blood, they saved the stronger ones.

  Cruel and pragmatic. Such was the world of cultivation, and demons especially followed such law. Which begged a question.

  “Why did they attack us?”

  Flameax shrugged.

  “What I want to know is where’s the sect master, and how did they know he was away?”

  “Sect Master is away on imperial summons.” Venerable Monsoon appeared beside them. “I don’t know how they knew. Now, let me regrow your arm Flameax.”

  ***

  “Our only chance is to head north.” Emeraldstreak stated the obvious, but did not mention the other, equally obvious truths.

  The ship had crashed deep in the Savage Wood; they were unarmed, stranded in the domain of a peak fifth realm spirit beast, meaning they were surrounded by its third and fourth realm prey. Hopefully that was the case and not the alternative - the quetzalcoatlus was the prey of the jungle’s sixth or seventh realm overlord.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Navigating their way around third and fourth realm spirit beasts was dangerous, but not impossible. Doing the same with fifth realm spirit beasts meant certain death on their first encounter.

  Newt closed his eyes and tried to explore the world with his danger sense, but outside the Valley of the Lost the uncanny perception proved too faint to locate prey and danger. Heading north was the best they could do.

  The one thing their course guaranteed was that the odds of encountering any remains of their escape vessel were close to zero.

  Just as they started moving, a mighty roar shook the jungle. Newt, Greenbow, and Emeraldstreak scrambled for cover while looking up towards its source, seeing nothing but the canopy. Magmin sprang to Newt’s mind. The first ghost’s fascination with the aerial predators became apparent to Newt in all its terrifying glory.

  Less than ten minutes ago, maybe even less than five, the quetzalcoatlus had smashed head-first into a mound of enchanted reinforced wood and metal, yet it already flew, scanning the area for signs of trespassers.

  Hopefully, that means it’s the apex predator here.

  Another shriek shook the jungle. Closer. Despite themselves and the futility of the action, the three cultivators pressed against the massive tree trunk, staring up. Their shelter’s crown shook in the sudden gale, then stilled as the frustrated shriek grew distant.

  Greenbow gestured for them to move, and the group moved. While they needed the weapons and provisions, it suddenly became obvious their top priority was to open distance between themselves and the crash site.

  Newt and the rest did not know whether the trees hampered the towering avian’s landing or merely obstructed its line of sight, but walking out into the open, where the airship’s fragments had mowed down the trees was tantamount to suicide.

  A quarter of an hour later, Newt’s racing heart calmed, his heartbeat slowed, and the blood stopped drumming through his jugular. He remained tense, spiritual energy circulating through his body, and Granite Crust a split second away from materializing.

  The others also seemed tense, scanning the jungle as life and sounds gradually returned to it. First the cicadas and other noisy insects joined the ever-persistent mosquitoes, then came the frogs and the chatter of low realm pterodactyluses high above. In the depths of the Savage Wood, low realm spirit beasts evolved to reduce their size, to better hide and avoid the top predators.

  Newt’s third eye picked up a denser pocket of spiritual energy hanging off a tree fifteen yards away. The second realm silhouette was shaped like a palm-sized pterodactylus hugging a melon-sized mango, but Newt failed to spot the dinosaur with his eyes, despite knowing its exact location.

  He pointed towards the mango, and his sisters followed the direction indicated by the finger. They furrowed their brows and strained their eyes, but like Newt, they failed to spot the critter latching onto its melon.

  “A tiny second realm pterosaur,” Newt whispered, and the two gave him slow nods and weird looks, which made him recall pointing out shiny bugs to his parents when he was a small boy.

  He gulped. Death stalked them in the sky, they traveled the depths of the Savage Wood, and he was fascinated by neat, harmless avians and their camouflage ability.

  Newt kept his eyes peeled and his mouth closed. The jungle abounded with beauty. If not for the omnipresent weight of danger pressing a dagger against his back, Newt would have enjoyed the trek. Majestic trees surrounded them, but what Newt noticed about them were the horizontal claw-marks, warning intruders they had entered a predator’s territory. The scratches stood eight feet above ground, three deep gashes, each a foot in length, and they appeared fresh.

  “Allosaurus,” Greenbow pointed at the marks, then at a footprint at the tree’s base. The trail was easy to follow, and fortunately did not head north, but north-west.

  “Any idea about its realm?” Newt asked, but his eldest sister shook her head.

  “No clue. I can’t guess its element either, but its prints are heavy, so I doubt its air. Like most predators, allosauridae gravitate towards fire, but that’s like a sixty percent statistic; usually correct, often deceptive, lethal if you rely on it.”

  The way Greenbow said it, Newt knew she expected a response from him, but had no clue what to say. So he nodded sagely and left it at that.

  “We need to find water,” she continued as the party entered the allosaurus’s domain. “Aura has lost some blood, and her body is more fragile. She will need a drink or two tomorrow.”

  Greenbow set a faster pace than Newt would have liked. He wanted to skulk and sneak, but they moved at a relaxed walk for their realm, which translated to faster than mortals could sprint. Even so, the return trip would take moons.

  While considering their escape back to the civilization, Newt realized something with a start.

  “What of Stegorock and Sharpcut?” Newt was so absorbed in his thoughts, the danger, and the surreal circumstances, that the two men had slipped his mind.

  “We can only hope they are healthy and press on. They could be a hundred yards away, or they might be half a dozen miles away. There’s no way to find them, but if they are alive, they will also head north, that’s the only option, and sooner or later we will catch up to them, or they will catch up to us. Stegorock isn’t any worse than me at reading tracks, and if he runs across ours, he should find us in short order.”

  Newt nodded, wondering whether his eldest sister would have left him behind using that same logic had he been the one who got separated.