The Herb Tribe had gathered near the eastern clearing — their faces solemn, their eyes heavy with both fear and reverence.
At the center of the clearing stood a massive ox — or rather, something far larger. The beast's skin gleamed faintly with spiritual patterns, its body covered in a dense layer of emerald fur. Its horns were coiled like living vines, glowing faintly with runic symbols of offering.
The air around it was fragrant, almost intoxicating. Piled upon its broad back was an extravagant collection of rare treasures — shimmering herbs, crystal fruits, and beast flowers that pulsed faintly with spirit energy. Some of the fruits were glowing faintly gold, others silver, and the faint scent that wafted from them could make one's blood feel lighter.
These were no ordinary offerings. They were the treasures of decades — gathered through quiet desperation, hidden in secret from outsiders, and now destined to be consumed by the Fire Python that ruled their lives.
