Page 19 of Alpha's Heir

I paused, taking one last look back, the edge of the compound just visible through the trees. "I'll be back," I vowed, a whisper lost to the wind. Then, turning, I walked deeper into the forest, leaving the path and all it represented behind.

The path wasn’t much of a path, more like whispers of worn earth between the thickening trees, but it was enough. I was deep in the part of the forest most of our pack steered clear from. The air was different here, heavier, as if it held onto secrets of its own.

I hiked for hours, my boots scuffing against the uneven ground, my hand brushing over the moss that clung to the ancient trees. I clutched the old text close, its pages marked with cryptic symbols and half-erased maps, my only guide in this green labyrinth.

"Okay, Cora, let's not fuck this up," I mumbled to myself, eyes scanning for the next clue. There was supposed to be a clearing ahead, the text said, marked by a stone with runes that could have been there since the dawn of time.

When the trees finally broke open, I almost walked past the stone. It was more a boulder, really, cloaked in ivy, its runes almost completely worn away. My fingers traced the indentations, the patterns odd, unfamiliar, and frustratingly enigmatic.

"Come on, you ancient piece of rock, give me something," I whispered.

I pulled back the ivy, revealing more runes, and a sequence clicked in my mind. Three triangles followed by a spiral. The text had a similar symbol – it was a marker, a direction. I had to follow the spirals. I glanced around, spotting another stone through the trees. A sprint of excitement raced through my veins.

I moved from stone to stone, each with its own set of runes leading me deeper into the forest. I kept expecting... something. A guardian to jump out? A magical barrier? But there was nothing but the relentless silence of the forest and the growing ache in my legs.

"Screw this Indiana Jones bullshit," I groaned, pressing a hand to my lower back. "Where's a goddamn temple when you need one?"

As the sun climbed higher, its beams stabbing through the canopy, I found myself in a part of the woods where the trees seemed to hold their breath. My steps slowed, the quiet pressing in on me.

Ahead, the forest floor was upturned, roots exposed like the tangle of thoughts in my head. A tree lay fallen, ancient and massive, its base splintered into shards. Amongst the timber carnage, a single spiral was carved into the ground, filled with dark soil contrasting the surrounding light earth.

I knelt beside it, heart pounding. This was it, a sign, a real tangible clue. I dug my hands into the earth, following the spiral's groove until my fingers hit something solid. A box, small, wooden, and old, old enough to be part of the tree itself.

With shaking hands, I pried it open. Inside, a roll of parchment and a stone, smooth and black, with the same three triangles and spiral from before. I unrolled the parchment – a map, newer than the text, with a route leading further in, and a series of riddles alongside.

"Fucking riddles?" I hissed, a bubble of laughter escaping me. It was almost too ridiculous, like the universe was playing some cosmic joke on us all.

But the sun was getting low, and I had to make a choice. Go back and return with nothing or push on with the riddles as my guide.

I shoved the parchment into my pocket, the box back into the earth, and memorized the stone's exact location. Then, with a deep breath, I followed the map, tracing the riddles' cryptic breadcrumbs.

I lost track of time, the forest swallowing me whole, each riddle leading me to another, to another clue, another piece of this maddening puzzle. There were engravings on trees, more stones to decode, each step leading me deeper into the forest’s heart.

The light was dying, a soft gold filtering through the leaves as I stumbled upon another clearing, this one untouched, the ground before me untouched by any sign of humanity.

I stood at the edge, parchment in hand, my brain ticking over the last riddle. It spoke of a guardian’s gaze and the setting sun, and as the light shifted, shadows danced over a tree opposite me, its trunk wider than I was tall. There, etched in the bark, another spiral.

"Gotcha," I whispered, my heart a mix of triumph and trepidation.

I approached, running my hands over the pattern, the tree's bark warm from the sun's kiss. The guardian’s gaze was upon me, I could feel it, the air charged with expectation.

And as night began to whisper its arrival, I found myself standing before the tree, still so far from answers, yet surrounded by the promise of them. I was deep in the heart of the unknown, every sense alert.

The moon hung heavy in the sky, almost touchable through the tangle of branches overhead. The clearing was bathed in a silver-blue glow, the light not just reflecting but emanating from the forest itself. I had stumbled into a world within a world, the air vibrating with magic, the sort of place that didn’t adhere to the rules of man or nature.

The shrine stood at the heart of the clearing, ancient stones piled one upon the other with purpose and reverence. The carving on the central stone depicted a creature of myth, a guardian that was neither fully beast nor man. It bore the fierce maw of a wolf, eyes deep-set and knowing, with the antlers of a stag arching from its temples. Its limbs were a patchwork of various creatures, claws, paws, and hooves, a chimera guarding secrets older than time.

“Holy shit,” I muttered under my breath, circling the shrine with a mixture of awe and caution.

My fingers hovered over the carvings, hesitant to touch, to disturb. I could almost hear the whispers of the ages, the chants of those who had once worshipped here, and a shiver traveled down my spine. The guardian’s eyes seemed to follow me, and for a second, I wondered if I was standing before a statue or a sentinel poised to spring to life.

I circled back, studying the base of the shrine, looking for any sign, any inscription that could be a key to what I was searching for. The guardian had to be here, had to be real; I could feel it in my bones.

The clearing itself was encircled by flowers that glowed faintly, as if holding onto the last of the day’s sunlight. They gave off a sweet, heady scent that made my head swim, and I took a deep breath, trying to anchor myself to the here and now.

“Okay, Cora, think,” I whispered to myself. “Where would a guardian of the forest live, if not here?”

I stepped back, taking in the whole of the clearing, the shrine, the glow of the flowers, the dance of moonlight on stone. It had to be a clue, it all had to mean something. But I couldn’t piece it together, couldn’t see the forest for the trees.

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