In the growing light of the early dawn, the dew clinging to the dead leaves and grass, Edwin and Bataar stood facing the rising sun. Now that everything wasn’t shrouded in darkness, the forest felt far less threatening. With the unusual bending of knots and branches and the smattering of grasses, it actually took on an unusual charm. The sun softly illuminated the horizon, as it slowly burned away the morning fog was helping both men awaken a little easier and gave a sense of serenity. Bataar straightened up and breathed in contentment, “Morning is a time for consideration.”

  “Early birds and worms and all, I assume”, Edwin guessed.

  “If I knew what that meant, then perhaps,” Bataar grinned underneath his veil, “The phrases Otherworlders toss about always confused me.”

  Edwin stretched his arms above his head, working out the kinks in his shoulders. As he looked at his hands, he considered the circular sigil, “Omnidei”, he tested the word, “God of All. Something like that sounds…”

  “Vital”, Bataar finished Edwin’s sentence, “The Omnidei went by many titles long forgotten, but that name always managed to capture its essence.”

  “You make it sound like a force rather than a being.”

  “The Omnidei is something beyond anything of the beings who live below. Even the ones who come from beyond cannot comprehend,” the veiled man seemed to ready himself, “You cannot wield what it is you don’t understand. Wielding the Authority, infinitely moreso.”

  Edwin pursed his lips, “I believe you, but what does the Authority actually do?”

  Before answering his question, Bataar suddenly began walking deeper into the forest. Despite how aged the pseudo-immortal’s body was, Edwin had to lengthen his stride to keep pace, “Everything in this world has a concept surrounding it. The Omnidei’s Authority is no different.”

  Edwin ducked when a tree branch that Bataar was holding suddenly whipped towards his head. Shaking his head in annoyance, “That doesn’t really tell me anything.”

  Bataar continued walking until Edwin had to determine where to go by listening for the old man’s voice,“Within the individual, those concepts they adopt are innumerable. The more someone understands the concept lying in their soul, the greater their potential becomes. Before we start, we need to know yours.”

  Running forward to catch back up, “Ugh, and how are you going to-”, emerging from the trees, into a small clearing, Edwin whipped his head back and forth, trying to find the old man, but there was no sound, sight or even tracks. He simply vanished.

  Scanning the ground, Edwin saw Bataar’s knife laying on the ground in its sheath. It hadn’t been dropped, but laid in plain sight. The young hero was confused, but he ran through the facts. Bataar left him a weapon, so clearly he wanted him to use it. Edwin had been getting an explanation as to how his alleged power worked. And since he had been left with a means of defense, that most likely meant, he was about to be tested. The young man was coming to the conclusion he was about to go through a hazing ritual of sorts.

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  Drawing the knife from its scabbard, “Well, if you people want to gang up on the new guy…”

  But even as he readied himself, he knew he was wrong. He just knew, there was an edge to the air that wasn’t present a moment before. He wasn’t alone, and he knew Pradip was not present. Edwin examined the knife and cautiously ran the very tip of his index finger along the blade. The redheaded man grunted in more pain than he expected when a thin cut that quickly began bleeding appeared.

  ‘I barely touched the sharp side but I still got hurt this much?’

  No, he definitely wasn’t in the middle of a hazing ritual. If he were, he wouldn’t have been left with a way of fighting back. And this weapon was clearly meant for action… for killing. Such a serious weapon wouldn’t be used so casually. Turning it over to observe it’s unnatural triangular shape, the thought of using this weapon for something so juvenile seemed irreverent.

  HRRRREEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOAAAHHHH

  Thatch felt his very bones freeze. Whatever made that noise sounded like a cross between a woman screaming and an animal in the throes of dying. Worst of all, it sounded close. Quick as he could, Edwin strapped the knife to his belt and scrambled up a tree that had branches low enough to the ground for him to jump and grab, but tall enough whatever creature he just heard couldn’t climb. It was faint, but Thatch could hear the heavy, slow but purposeful footsteps coming in his direction. The kind of footsteps that screamed something was carefully searching him out. With each heavy thump, and the snapping of twigs, Edwin’s vain hope the creature would just go away was dying violently. Anxiety induced heart palpitations were pulsing in the young hero’s ears so hard, he almost didn’t notice the footsteps had silenced. For a precious moment, soothing relief spread through Edwin’s chest, slowing his heartbeat and letting his hands stop twitching.

  He took a deep breath to settle his nerves before clamping a hand over his mouth to keep from throwing up. Swallowing, Edwin removed his hand from his mouth and lightly inhaled. It took considerable willpower not to empty what little was in his stomach. With each passing second, the stench of swampy mud, animal musk and rotting meat filled the air to the point it choked worse than tear gas. The anxiety from before crashed back into the young hero’s chest.

  ‘It’s coming! It knows I’m here! It’ll be here any second. S*** s*** s***!’, Edwin began panicking, ‘Was this just an elaborate scheme to get rid of me?’

  Through the fear, an ember of black anger sparked in Edwin’s chest. More than his hatred at the idea of dying like a victim to a mindless monster, he hated the idea of being used.

  “No. You can kill me”, he quietly growled. Quietly hissing as he drew the knife in it’s lethal glory, “But, you don’t get to enjoy it.”

  Ripping his eyes open and diving towards the ground, a clawed hand smashed the trunk of the tree into splinters.

  Rolling into the fall and springing onto his feet bled the impact. The trees shook as the monster dropped to the forest floor. Edwin sucked in some air, breathing through the ache of jumping from such a height, only to almost lose that breath as the creature finally let Thatch see its grim visage. The monster was nearly four meters tall and painfully emaciated. Patches of brown fur barely covered its sickly graying skin. Every individual rib was sticking out and the sharp bones on its arm led to wicked sharp, yellow-brown claws caked with dirt and the viscera of an earlier victim. But worst of all was its face. A head that probably once looked like a man, but now nothing more than a cruel facsimile. Its face so pale, covered in lacerations with hair ripped out in random places. And its eyes, glowing scarlet red and filled with a mixture of madness, sadistic pleasure and raging hunger. It opened a mouth full of yellow, needle-like teeth.

  HRRRREEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOAAAHHHH