The deeper Arif moved into the Mengrave Forest, the heavier the air became. The mist swirled thick around him, wrapping the twisted roots in a ghostly haze. Everything was quiet—too quiet. The usual sounds of night creatures were gone, replaced by an unsettling silence.
He tightened his grip on the Verdant Blade, its faint glow pulsing under his fingers. Something was watching. He could feel it.
Then, a whisper.
Soft at first. Almost like the wind.
Then closer.
Arif froze. His breath hitched.
The mist shifted. Eyes appeared—not one pair, but several, glowing faintly between the trees.
At first, he thought it was just his mind playing tricks. But then one stepped forward.
A phantom tiger.
Its form shimmered in the moonlight, flickering between solid and mist. Arif had heard the stories—the creatures of the Mengrave were bound to the forest, tied to its energy. If they showed themselves, it meant the spirits were restless.
The tiger stared at him, unmoving. Then it growled.
The sound wasn't deep or loud, but it vibrated in his chest. Another set of eyes glowed behind it. More figures emerged from the darkness.
Arif's muscles tensed. This wasn't normal. Something had disturbed the balance of the forest.
And he was about to find out what.
Arif didn't move. He barely breathed. The phantom tiger studied him, its ghostly form rippling slightly with every breath it took. More glowing eyes flickered behind it, shifting like restless flames in the mist.
Then, the tiger took another step forward.
Arif's grip tightened on his sword. He had never faced one of these creatures before—not up close. The elders said they were guardians of the forest, watching over it since the beginning of time. They never attacked without reason.
But what if tonight was different?
The mist thickened. Shapes flickered within it. The whispers returned, curling around him like unseen fingers.
Then—a voice.
Not human. Not animal.
Something else.
"You don't belong here."
Arif's heart hammered in his chest. The voice wasn't deep, nor was it loud. It sounded as if it was speaking directly into his mind, bypassing his ears completely.
He swallowed hard. "I—I'm looking for answers," he whispered, unsure if he was speaking to the tiger or something greater. "Something is wrong in the forest."
Silence.
Then—the tiger lunged.
Arif jumped back, barely dodging. The creature's claws slashed the air where he had just stood. The force of its movement sent ripples through the mist, distorting the shadows around him.
More shapes moved. He saw figures—humanoid, flickering between reality and nothingness.
Spirits. Watching. Judging.
Arif steadied his breathing. He had to be smart. He couldn't fight these creatures like ordinary enemies. The Mengrave was alive—it had its own rules.
And if he wanted to survive, he had to follow them.
The tiger circled him now, its spectral form never fully solid. Arif didn't lower his sword, but he also didn't attack. Instead, he listened.
The whispers had changed. They were no longer threatening. They were… curious.
Testing him.
"Are you worthy?"
Another voice. This one softer. Familiar.
Arif blinked. He had heard that voice before—but where?
Suddenly, the tiger stopped. Its eyes locked onto him.
"Prove it."
Then—everything rushed forward at once.
The mist collapsed inward. Shadows merged. The spirits blurred, their figures twisting around him. The forest shook, as if the very ground was reacting to the challenge.
And then—the battle began.
Arif barely had time to think. The tiger lunged again, its claws cutting through the air. He dodged, rolling over a tangle of roots, his sword glowing faintly as he moved.
The spirits around him watched, their whispers intensifying.
Another attack. Another dodge.
Arif's breathing quickened. He needed a plan. He wasn't sure if he was meant to fight—or prove something deeper.
Then, the tiger paused.
It looked at him. Its gaze was sharp. Calculating.
Then—it attacked, but slowly this time. Testing him.
Arif narrowed his eyes. He had been in enough fights to recognize a challenge when he saw one. This wasn't about killing. It was about understanding.
So he changed his approach.
Instead of dodging, he stepped forward.
The tiger swiped—he blocked.
Its claws scraped against his sword, sending green sparks flying into the mist.
More whispers. More movement in the dark.
Then—Arif did something bold.
He lowered his weapon.
The spirits stilled.
The tiger did not move.
"What are you willing to give?"
The voice returned. This time, Arif understood.
This wasn't just a test. It was a choice.
A moment later, the mist shifted. The phantom tiger stepped back, its form flickering. The glowing eyes in the darkness dimmed.
And then—the whispers faded.
The forest released him.
Arif exhaled, feeling the tension leave his body. His heartbeat slowed. The spirits were gone. The mist had thinned.
But he knew this was only the beginning.
The forest had tested him—and for now, it had let him stay.
Arif looked at the Verdant Blade, its glow now calmer.
Whatever was happening in the Mengrave, it was bigger than him.
And he was about to learn why.