A week passed, and the age of the ceremony tradition came to an end after everyone born within the same year as Rion also finished their offerings.
At a cliff about two kilometres south of the Redwood Den.
Rion and the other trainees stood staring at the nine figures before them.
The nine figures were Marin, Haria, Zoka, Tarek and the remaining were squad leaders.
Zoka was muscular, like a lion, a group leader of commitment. He had dark red braided hair, sharp black eyes that were polished with experience of the wild, and his dark skinned, muscular body had been through more battles than his tribe had seasons.
Tarek was lean like a fox; his group wasn’t of brawn but brains. He had long blonde hair with brown eyes that gleamed with craftiness, further enhancing the slight smirk that tugged his lips. His tanned body, unlike others, had no scars because to him the scars weren’t a badge of honour; instead, they were marks of weakness.
However, Rion’s eyes were not on the group leaders; instead, they were locked on a broad man with thick braided black hair that resembled horns. His eyes had a slightly distant look as if nothing of this mattered to him, and his body was covered with big, wide scars.
He was a squad leader under Tarek, Zukah.
Zukah was the leader of the squad that Dora belonged to, and she no longer wanted to stay in that squad for reasons that he didn’t know of, but... that didn’t matter, as he had already decided to have a good talk with his fists.
’Just you wait...’ he mumbled inwardly while clenching his fists.
Marin looked at all sixteen of them and said, "You had your fangs sharpened for the past five years. You have learned how to kill, survive and live... and now at the auspicious age of fifteen, you are to join the hunt."
He stepped near the edge and continued, "All of you have multiple questions squirming inside your heads and... you’ll soon get the answers to all of them."
He untied the string of a pouch hanging from the dark leather rope wrapped around his waist and took out a beautiful green gem with black runes carved upon it.
The gem was as big as his palm, and it had an otherworldly glow to it.
He turned his head towards the trainees, raised the gem before him and muttered words that Rion didn’t understand.
"hO, rehtoM! teL meht ees tahw sedih dniheb eht niatruc!"
(Oh, Mother! Let them see what hides behind the curtain!)
Just as those words slid off his tongue, the black runes burned white, and a green translucent dust fell out of them.
"Huh?!"
"What’s that?!"
"Unga??!!"
The trainees looked at the dust in bewilderment, and it flew towards them. A few of them stepped back, but they couldn’t stop it from entering their eyes.
Rion didn’t run away from it; instead, he let it do whatever it wanted to do, not like the vice lord of the den would want to hurt them.
The dust entered his eyes, and strangely, he felt nothing. He had expected some sort of sting or blood tears, but nothing.
Confused, he turned his head towards Marin to question him about it, but... the words never left his mouth as he stood wide-eyed staring at the deep southern forest.
The other trainees were the same. All of them walked to the edge and stared at the treacherous scene before them.
The one ferocious wildlife that stood as the declaration of life was nowhere to be seen; instead, miasma — deep, dark and dreadful miasma filled the forest.
The trees, the grass, the animals and everything that once lived were dead, drained and corrupted by the purple miasma that ruled the forest.
Even the sky looked as if it were bleeding from the dread that filled the ground beneath.
They stared at it in surprise, awe and horror, and one of them barely managed to ask.
"What... is that?"
A disgusted look appeared on Marin’s face as he pointed at the forest and said in a dark tone, "That’s the Purple Fog Forest... the vexing land that births creatures that can only be killed by Aura or Azrath — Kareths. It is also what we live for. This is our duty, to make sure that those of the Purple don’t set foot on the Green."
A hammer struck Rion’s mind as he remembered the strange two-horned spider that he had killed at the age of twelve. ’So that was a Kareth?’ He questioned inwardly.
He let the question vanish into the vast realm of thoughts and asked in an amazed tone, "Why couldn’t we see this before?"
A strange glint appeared in Marin’s eyes, and he answered in pride, "Because the whole of the Purple Fog Forest is blanketed away from unworthy eyes by the Elven sorcery."
The hammer struck again, but this time it was heavier and louder. ’Elven sorcery! It means elves exist in this world... WAIT! The words he used were similar to Selyanes. Don’t tell me! IS SHE AN ELF?!’ He concluded, and his lips parted to confirm his thought.
But before his tangible excitement could turn solid, he remembered the words Marin had just spoken:
It is also what we live for. This is our duty, to make sure that those of the Purple don’t set foot on the Green.
He looked at Marin and asked, "Why did you say that this is our duty?"
Marin nodded as he expected this question, a smile creased his face, and he answered, "That purple miasma drains life energy and turns humans into mindless monsters whom we call the Tainted. The Red and Black Mountains emit a natural energy that resists this corruption. That’s why we wear these hides — to absorb as much of that energy as we can."
Rion’s eyes darkened in understanding. He stared at his empty palms in despair and muttered in thought, ’So... I was always meant to be shackled to this place?’
~~~
A/N:
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