The Shattered Crowns

P.O.V. Akash

Atta surged in the air. It seeped into the Karnen's open wounds, bypassing the thick armor that shielded its body. The wind vortices Winter had summoned dug into the creature's flesh, carving deep into its exposed insides. Chunks of carapace burst apart, scattering as the Atta ripped through the Karnen like an unseen predator.

Winter stood unsteadily, one hand raised. "I told you not to die," she muttered, her voice brittle but defiant.

The colossal Karnen wavered. Its remaining limbs twitched as the storm ravaged its insides, tearing it apart from within. Then, with a guttural hiss, it collapsed to the ground.

The storm quieted, the winds losing their ferocity. The jungle grew eerily silent as the remaining Atta faded, drifting like thin threads into the air. Winter crumpled to her knees, her breathing labored.

"It's done," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I have no more Atta… or strength. The rest is up to you."

Akash leaned on his blade, panting as he looked over the wreckage. "It's fine. We'll handle the rest," he said, though his voice betrayed his exhaustion.

But as the quiet settled, Akash realized something was wrong.

The Karnen that had seemed coordinated, like predators hunting their prey, suddenly turned chaotic. They began lashing out—not just at the humans but at each other. Their frenzied movements were erratic, random.

They had become berserk.

From one of the remaining trees, something moved—a figure unlike the Karnen. Akash's gaze snapped to it, his heart tightening at the sight.

A creature clung to the side of the tree, watching the chaos below with an unsettling stillness. Its metallic mask caught the faint light, a featureless face shifting as if liquid metal flowed across its surface.

Its body was humanoid in shape, covered in a sleek, fiber-like black material that clung to its form. Shadowed, almost indistinct, it seemed to absorb the light around it. A thick, dark cloak billowed gently as the figure moved, its presence more menacing than any of the Karnen.

"What is that?" Akash muttered.

Winter's sharp intake of breath cut through the silence. "A Morosi," she hissed.

"A Morosi?" Akash asked, his gaze not leaving the figure.

"A General from one of the Princes," Winter whispered, her voice trembling. "We are doomed."

The Morosi remained unmoving, perched high in the tree, its head tilting slightly as it observed the frenzy of the Karnen. Something about it felt wrong.

Akash felt a surge of anger bubble within him, sudden and inexplicable. It wasn't his own—it was like the presence of the Morosi was forcing it upon him. Around him, the remaining hunters succumbed, shouting in raw fury as they charged directly into the fray without thought or strategy.

They were slaughtered.

The Morosi hadn't moved, but its influence was palpable. Men who had moments ago fought valiantly were now reckless, throwing their lives away in blind rage.

Akash gritted his teeth, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his blade. His mind was spinning, his emotions rising uncontrollably. It took everything in him to hold on, to resist the primal fury clawing at his thoughts.

Winter was faring worse. Her breathing was erratic, her body trembling as she fought to stay conscious. The sight of so much blood around her made her want to retch. It was everywhere—coating the wooden platforms, soaking into the dirt. The iron tang of it filled her nose.

Her breathing hitched, panic clawing at her throat. No—she couldn't let herself spiral. Not now. Breathe, she told herself. She focused on the one thing grounding her: Akash.

The boy—barely a man—stood between her and the carnage. His body was battered, his clothes torn, but he didn't move from his place. He was like a wall, unyielding.

If Akash could stand, so could she. Winter forced herself to focus, steadying her breaths.

Blood smeared Akash's face, dripping from the corner of his lip. His shirt was shredded from the claws of the Karnen, exposing the Impresa etched into his chest—a mark that declared his heritage. He stood tall, his resin-infused blade gleaming in his hand.

Akash Dorher stared down the Morosi.

The General had descended from the tree, stepping onto the wooden platform as the remaining Karnen tore into one another in a frenzied bloodlust. The air around it was suffocating, thick with an unnatural weight.

Akash yelled, his voice defiant and unwavering. "I am a son of the Great Shifter. An outcast of the village, but I will kill you for that same village! It is my right, as the offspring of the first of men, for all beasts to quiver in fear. You will die, Morosi."

Winter's stomach dropped. He had said the General's name aloud. Only invoking the name of a Prince itself would have been worse.

Some of the remaining hunters snapped out of their rage, rallying around Akash. Winter took in the scene—a desperate final stand amidst the carnage. The Morosi, with its inhuman power, could annihilate them all if it wished.

So why did it pause?

Winter's sharp eyes caught it: movement in the treetops.

The Morosi didn't speak. It descended further, its liquid-metal mask morphing into silver horns. Its body twisted in impossible ways as it tore apart one of the frenzied Karnen. The remaining hunters raised their weapons, though the gesture felt futile.

Just as the Morosi stepped forward, something massive entered the clearing.

No one moved as a long, serpentine body covered in snow-white scales slithered into view. Its presence was heralded by silence, the world itself seeming to hold its breath.

The Shifter had arrived.

The Shifter's open-jawed snake head swooped down with blinding speed, swallowing the Morosi whole. Its silver mask and black form disappeared into the creature's maw without a trace.

The Shifter didn't stop. Its body moved through the clearing like a tidal wave, devouring Karnen and crushing others under its massive weight. The monstrous horde was decimated in seconds, its remaining members scattering into the forest in terror.

The Shifter lingered for a moment, its pale, glowing eyes surveying the carnage. Then, without a sound, it vanished into the trees, leaving the village in stunned silence.

Akash dropped his blade, his body sagging with relief and exhaustion. Winter slumped to the ground, her strength finally gone.

Only one thought remained in Winter's mind:

Why did the Morosi wait?