Waylinn's heart whoped in his chest. He knew that Sylvark's offer was no kindness at all. It was a trap, a test, and a challenge. But he also knew that he could not afford to show any fear, any weakness, or any hesitation.
Waylinn met the challenge in Sylvark's gaze, his resolve was tenacious. He would not be a pawn in Sylvark's game. Never be.
Waylinn turned around. His move was firm as he prepared to leave. His mind was consumed with one urgent thought: he had to ensure that Heka would be safe, no matter what. The fragile human's well-being was his sole priority, and nothing else mattered.
But before he could take a single step, a shadow fell across his path. Sylvark stood there. He blocked his way with an imposing presence.
The Indrik's eyes gleamed with a weird mixture of calm and intensity. As if he carried a secret, an enormous secret that he never revealed.
"Just calm down, don't be afraid, don't be cautious, I will do nothing to your human. After all, I'm not different from you, I will also make a vow to humans. Perhaps, he is human. But he is not a real human." Sylvark said. His voice was surprisingly gentle yet threatening.
Waylinn frowned, suspicion flickering across his face. He asked. His voice was edged with wariness. "What are you talking about?"
Sylvark's gaze drifted toward the horizon, as if seeing visions beyond the present moment. "Maybe, you don't know. But soon, there will be a new ruler, a new creature, the perfect hybrid, a new power. There will be a fight, a revenge. He will drag him himself. He will stand in here, beside us. And I will be there, beside him."
Waylinn's expression hardened. He said dismissively. "It's just a rumor. After all, it's not my business."
Sylvark's eyes locked onto Waylinn's with unwavering intensity. "Apparently, it is. Because I want to join this new order, I believe that this being will break all the chains of suffering you've endured. He will shatter the old rules and bring a new era."
The air between them thickened with unspoken tension. Sylvark's words hinted at upheaval, a future where the boundaries between humans and immortals would blur. The power would be redefined.
For Waylinn, the promise of change was both a beacon of hope and a warning of the unknown dangers ahead.
Waylinn took a deep breath, feeling the weight of Sylvark's prophecy settle over him. The path before him was uncertain, but one thing was clear: the world he knew was on the brink of transformation. He would never change the place where he stood when the storm came.
Waylinn kept walking. His steps were steady and silent as he passed Sylvark without a single word. His mind was focused, his heart guarded.
He had learned long ago that words from immortals like Sylvark often carried hidden meanings. Like the traps disguised as offers.
Sylvark fell into step behind him. His voice was casual but laced with an unsettling undertone.
"Hey Waylinn, where are you going?" Sylvark said. He followed Waylinn behind.
Waylinn didn't turn around immediately. He replied curtly, his eyes fixed ahead. "Hunting for something, something to eat."
"Well, we can do it together." Sylvark said smoothly.
The unexpected offer startled Waylinn. There was no way Sylvark would help him so easily or out of kindness. His instincts screamed caution.
He was choked by Sylvark's word. Thus he stopped abruptly and turned to face Sylvark. He tried to plead Sylvark to follow him.
But something unexpected.
In his leg, Sylvark held a single leaf, an ordinary leaf. Yet somehow it shimmered faintly in the dim light of the immortal realm. Sylvark drew it near to his lips and blew gently. A sparkling dust scattered through the air. It drifted lazily until it settled on Waylinn's body.
"What is it?" Waylinn asked. His voice was tense as he brushed at the glittering particles clinging to his skin.
Sylvark's smile was cold and enigmatic. He said smoothly. "Nothing. I just need your help to be my fodder."
Then, with a sudden movement, he vanished into thin air. He left Waylinn alone.
A chill ran down Waylinn's spine. Something was wrong. It was obviously a trap.
Suddenly, a roar shattered the silence. It was a deep, guttural sound that echoed through the trees and shook the ground beneath his feet. His eyes snapped open wide as he scanned his surroundings.
He crouched low, moving cautiously through the underbrush. Every senses sharpened for any sign of danger.
The roar came again. It was closer this time. It filled him with a primal fury that sent a cold wave of fear through him.
Waylinn's mind raced. Sylvark's words, the sparkling dust. He wondered what would happen to him.
But Waylinn was no ordinary prey. His resolve hardened. He would face whatever came next with every ounce of strength he had left. For Heka, for himself, he would survive.
Suddenly, from the shadows of the dense forest, a group of small basilisks emerged. Their scales shimmered with a dull, eerie glow, and their eyes burned with a fierce hunger.
These creatures, though diminutive in size, were known for their relentless aggression and venomous bite. They encircled Waylinn like predators sizing up their prey.
One by one, the basilisks lunged at him with sharp claws and snapping jaws. Waylinn reacted swiftly, using the powerful muscles in his tail and legs to dash and slam them to the ground. His movements were fluid and precise.
Despite their repeated defeats, the basilisks showed no sign of despair. They leapt over Waylinn's body again and again. They attempted to bite and claw him from every angle. Their persistence was maddening.
But Waylinn's resolve was stronger and bigger. Each time they attacked, he countered with fierce determination. He drove them back with calculated strikes.
The relentless assault continued until the basilisks grew weary. After a few moments, their movements slowed, their strength drained. One by one, they collapsed, unable to rise again. The forest fell silent, save for the heavy breathing of the exhausted creatures.
Waylinn approached the nearest fallen basilisk cautiously. He considered the possibility of using these creatures as sustenance for Heka. He was relieved he could feed him with the flesh of these beasts.
Just then, Sylvark appeared. He stepped out from behind a tree with a wide grin plastered across his face.
He exclaimed. His voice dripped with mock admiration. "Wow!!! Waylinn, you're really cool. You're powerless, but you can defeat all the basilisks."
Waylinn glanced at Sylvark warily, unsure of the sincerity behind the praise. Sylvark's presence was never without ulterior motives. This moment was no exception.
Yet, despite the lingering distrust, Waylinn allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction. Even stripped of much of his enchantment, he could still fight and survive.
"They are just a little creature, no power awakening yet." Waylinn muttered to himself. His voice was low and steady.
He carefully picked up one of the exhausted basilisks. Its small body became limp but still alive.
With gentle care, he carried it in his mouth, mindful not to hurt the fragile creature. The basilisk's scales glistened faintly in the dim light as Waylinn moved forward.
Sylvark's voice broke the silence. His voice was smooth and almost casual. "Anyway, thank you for helping me."
There was a hint of amusement beneath his words, as if he found the entire situation entertaining.
Waylinn said nothing in response. His focus remained fixed ahead. His mind was occupied with the weight of responsibility and the uncertain path before him.
He did not trust Sylvark's gratitude, nor did he feel inclined to engage in idle conversation. His silence was a shield, a barrier against the unpredictable intentions of the Indrik.
For a while, Waylinn walked in silence, the basilisk still held gently in his mouth. Then, with a cautious glance over his shoulder, he saw Sylvark gathering the remaining basilisks.
The Indrik moved with a calculated grace. He herded the creatures as if he were preparing them for some unknown purpose.
Waylinn's eyes narrowed slightly. The scene before him was a reminder of the precariousness of his situation. An uneasy alliance forged in necessity, shadowed by suspicion and unspoken agendas.
Despite the tension, Waylinn's resolve remained unbroken. He would go back to Heka soon. No matter the cost, Heka must still be alive. And whatever Sylvark's true intentions were, Waylinn knew he had to stay vigilant.
With a final glance at Sylvark, Waylinn turned back to the path ahead, his steps steady and determined. The journey was far from over.