Silo's eyes were narrowed, his face lit only by the flickering flames of the fire. Silver stood before him, his posture tense, as if every word was a heavy weight pressing on him.
"Silver," Silo said, voice low and measured. "Have you slept these past moons?"
Silver shifted uncomfortably. His eyes were sunken, the weariness showing deep in his gaze. "The vision... it haunts me. The boy... he hunts me. He's coming for us."
Silo's fingers twitched, his pulse quickening. He couldn't show any weakness. Not now. His tribe would turn on him if they saw it—if they sensed fear. Fear was death in a leader. And his son, the one he had abandoned, now turned into the very monster that threatened everything.
"That nonsense again," Silo snapped, trying to push the words away, to silence the panic rising in his throat. "The wildest stories make their way into our tribe, Silver. But they are just stories. Nothing more."
Silver didn't waver. His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it. "Nonsense can be true, Silo. You know that. The wildest stories are often the ones that make this tribe like your family story. That boy... your son… he is coming. He has power like nothing we've ever seen."
Silo's heart raced, his mind boiling with thoughts he refused to acknowledge. Could his son truly have become such a creature? Could he have created the very thing that would bring about his downfall?
No, he thought. No weakness. Not now. I will not let this tribe see me falter.
He clenched his jaw, his thoughts spinning out of control. But there was something deeper now, gnawing at him, fear creeping into his chest like a cold shadow.
What if Silver was right?
Silo felt the weight of leadership like a stone in his chest. If he showed any sign of weakness, it would be the end. The tribe would tear him apart.
No... he couldn't show fear. Not now.
But my son…
Silo's hand tightened into a fist as he stared into the fire. The boy who had once been his son. The boy he had failed. And now that boy was coming to finish what had been started.
Silo's heart pounded harder.
"Silver, you're so sure, right?" Silo asked, his voice colder than he felt.
Silver met his gaze, unwavering. "Yes."
Silo's breath caught, and in that moment, he knew what he had to do. There was no turning back.
"Fine," Silo said, his voice like ice. "Bring me that boy's head."
Silver nodded, his eyes glinting with a silent understanding. "I will."
As Silver turned to leave, Silo sank deeper into his chair, his heart racing with fear he couldn't contain.
He would do what he had to. The tribe needed him.
The boy needed to die.
Meanwhile, far from the tribe, Greed was deep in thought. Sitting at the edge of the forest, he stared out at the horizon, his body aching and his mind racing. Every day felt like a fight for survival. Every breath he took seemed like a reminder that the world was wild, dangerous, and unforgiving.
He had to learn. He had to survive.
He remembered the tree, the way the branches had held his weight. The sticks had helped him climb, but now... now he needed them for something greater. I need to learn how to use these sticks to fight, to hunt.
Greed's gaze fell on a large tree nearby, its branches hanging low, just within reach. The rough bark looked solid. This might be the way.
He approached the tree slowly, feeling his muscles protest at every step. His fingers itched to grab one of the sticks. But how would he get them off the tree? The branches were thick and sturdy, not like the thin ones he had used before. They'd hold his weight, sure, but how would he break them free?
He stared up at the tree, his eyes narrowed in concentration. His fingers twitched. Think. Think.
Then, an idea sparked in his mind.
Maybe if I jump on the branch, it will break.
Greed smiled to himself, impressed with his own thinking. "I got this," he muttered to himself, testing the air as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
He grabbed the tree trunk, his fingers gripping the bark. He began to climb, slowly at first. His hands slipped a little, his fingers raw from the rough wood. But his body moved with purpose, pulling him higher and higher.
When he reached a branch just within reach, he grabbed hold of it and pulled himself up, using all his strength. The branch creaked under his weight, bending lower. His heart raced with excitement.
This is it.
He took a deep breath and jumped, leaping with all his might, hoping to snap the branch loose.
The world seemed to slow as he hit the branch, the momentum of his body forcing it down. But—
CRACK!
The branch snapped, and Greed's body went flying.
Everything happened so fast. His hands reached out, trying to grasp something, anything, to stop his fall. But there was nothing.
THUD!
Greed hit the ground with a sickening crash. The impact sent a jolt of pain through his entire body, and for a moment, he couldn't move. He gasped, his breath coming in shallow, frantic bursts.
His nose... his nose was broken. Pain exploded through his face. His hands flew to his face, fingers pressing against the blood streaming down.
No... he thought, his vision swimming. Why does this hurt so much?
He crumpled to the ground, curling up into a tight ball as tears blurred his vision. His body trembled. The world spun, and all he could do was lay there, gasping for air, feeling like he was drowning in the pain.
Why? He asked himself. Why can't I do this?
His breath came in ragged sobs, his chest heaving with every painful breath.
But slowly, the rage began to build. His body screamed in pain, but his mind... his mind burned with something else. Something darker.
He wasn't just going to survive. He was going to fight.
Greed slowly sat up, wiping the blood from his face. His eyes, red from both pain and frustration, glinted with determination.
"I won't stop," he whispered through clenched teeth.
Even with the pain. Even with failure.
He would keep going.