The journey from Janikar had taken three grueling weeks of jolting carts, endless dust, and sleepless nights under starless skies.
Rusi had expected the road to grow busier as they drew closer to Ashura, the glittering heart of the Hasti Empire.
Instead, the opposite had happened.
The traffic thinned, then vanished entirely.
He stepped down from the final cart at a lonely crossroads, the weight of his battered suitcase pulling on his shoulder.
The driver gave him a quick, almost pitying nod before whipping the mules onward, disappearing around the bend without a backward glance.
No other carriages waited.
No porters.
Only the dense green shadows of the jungle and the occasional distant call of unseen birds.
Ashura lay somewhere ahead the beating heart of the empire.
At twenty-two, this was Rusi’s first real posting as an officer of the realm.
He had left behind the quiet familiarity of the Baahg Kingdom, the sleepy markets he had known since childhood, and the worried eyes of his mother.
He had told her it was ambition that drove him.
It wasn’t entirely a lie.
Somewhere beyond the sleepless nights and familiar faces waited a version of himself that actually mattered a man strong enough to stand among the empire’s finest.
A faint, hopeful smile touched his lips as he adjusted the strap of his suitcase.
“Now the real work begins,” he whispered.
He walked.
The deeper he ventured into the jungle path, the more the world seemed to hold its breath.
Leaves hung motionless overhead.
No insects buzzed.
Even the usual cacophony of the wild had fallen silent.
The air grew thick with the scent of damp earth and overripe sweetness like fruit left too long in the sun, beginning to rot.
The wind itself felt reluctant, barely stirring the heavy foliage.
After nearly an hour, faint voices drifted through the trees.
Five or six figures emerged ahead on the narrow dirt path.
They carried bundles over their shoulders and woven baskets in their hands.
An old man with weathered skin and a practiced, warm smile stepped forward.
“Where are you bound, young traveler?” he called.
“Ashura,” Rusi replied, straightening his posture.
“I’m expected at the capital for my first posting.”
The old man chuckled softly.
“A long road still ahead of you.
And this stretch…” His gaze flicked toward the thick jungle on either side.
“…isn’t always welcoming.”
Rusi frowned.
“Not welcoming?”
“The jungle has its moods,” the old man said lightly.
“Wild animals.
And… other things.
Best not to walk it alone after dark.”
He gestured to the small group behind him a middle-aged couple, a young woman in a bright saffron scarf, and two children.
They looked ordinary enough.
Tired travelers, nothing more.
Yet something in the air pressed closer.
Watching.
Rusi hesitated only a moment.
“Alright.
Thank you.
I’d appreciate the company.”
At first, the group was lively.
Easy laughter floated between them, small stories were shared, and harmless teasing passed back and forth.
“Your name?” one of the men asked.
“Rusi.
From Janikar.”
“Ah,” the man nodded knowingly.
“They say the markets there never sleep.”
A small girl, no older than eight, looked up at him with wide eyes.
“Why are you going to Ashura, sir?”
“I’m a new officer,” Rusi said with a faint, proud smile.
“First official posting.”
The group exchanged brief, quiet glances.
The laughter returned a heartbeat too quickly, almost forced.
“Then we should call you ‘sir,'” the old man said, clapping Rusi on the shoulder.
His hand felt strangely cold despite the humid air.
As they continued, small things began to fray at the edges of normalcy.
Rustling followed them through the undergrowth never quite in rhythm with their own footsteps.
A splash echoed from a stream to the right, yet no one reacted.
Movement flickered in the canopy above, vanishing the instant Rusi turned his head.
And sometimes… it felt like one of them was watching him too closely.
Whenever he glanced back, they were smiling.
Night fell faster than it should have, as if the jungle had swallowed the remaining daylight whole.
They made camp in a small clearing.
Firelight pushed back the darkness, but only just.
Shadows danced unnaturally at the edges of the glow.
The young woman in the saffron scarf began humming softly four repeating notes that sent an uncomfortable shiver down Rusi’s spine.
Beyond the fire, the jungle was deathly silent.
No insects.
No wind.
No night creatures.
The old man handed Rusi a plate woven from fresh banana leaves.
“Eat.
You’ll need your strength for the road tomorrow.”
A boy stepped forward, holding out a skewer of roasted meat.
“Sir… would you like some?”
Rusi reached out.
The boy didn’t move.
His eyes were fixed just past Rusi’s shoulder, wide with something that wasn’t fear — something far worse.
Rusi’s hand slowed.
“What is it?”
The humming stopped abruptly.
A powerful hand clamped over Rusi’s mouth from behind violent, sudden, and inhumanly strong.
The plate fell, scattering food across the dirt.
Rusi’s body locked in panic.
The grip was wrong.
Too still.
Too certain.
Too cold.
The old man sat beside him, watching calmly.
Patiently.
Still smiling that same warm smile.
No one else in the group moved.
In the shifting firelight, horror washed over Rusi.
He had never been a traveler they simply happened upon.
He was the reason they were on this path at all.
Miles away, the wooden wheels of a reinforced carriage rattled hard against the uneven jungle road.
Inside the dim interior, Rai lit a cigarette.
The brief flare illuminated the faint scar running along his right cheek before the flame died.
Thin smoke curled upward, mixing with the heavy scent of damp wood and earth.
Silence pressed heavily between him and Bahadur.
“Sir,” Bahadur said quietly, his deep voice respectful, “the report came just before dawn.
A driver found something on the road.
He didn’t stay long enough to investigate properly.”
Rai answered with a slight nod, staring out the narrow slit in the carriage wall.
The cart pushed deeper toward the wild edge of Hasti territory.
The road narrowed dangerously.
Trees closed in like living walls, their branches clawing at the roof.
Even the usual jungle chorus had vanished, replaced by an oppressive, watchful quiet.
When they finally stepped down, the world behind them seemed to recede into insignificance.
Ahead, the forest waited still, heavy, and ancient.
It felt like it was observing them.
Beyond a hastily strung rope line, Nirakh officers moved with quiet, professional efficiency.
The path cleared instantly as Rai walked forward.
His reputation preceded him.
“Start from the beginning,” an officer instructed the visibly shaken driver, who stood wringing his hands.
“I… thought it was just discarded cloth at first,” the man muttered, eyes darting toward the trees.
“Didn’t stop right away.
But something felt wrong…”
Rai crouched beside the first body.
No twisted limbs.
No torn clothing.
No signs of violent struggle.
Only a faint, precise mark circling the neck thin, deliberate, almost delicate.
It was as if the man had simply stopped living.
Rai’s sharp gaze moved to the undergrowth.
Faint drag marks led deeper into the shadows.
“Check there,” he ordered.
Moments later, Davan’s voice drifted back from the trees.
“Sir… there’s more.”
They gathered quickly around the grim discovery.
Not one body.
Many.
Closer to thirty.
Men, women, even a few older children.
All placed with eerie, almost artistic precision arranged in a loose spiral pattern that radiated outward from the center of the clearing.
Seren studied the spread, her voice low and steady.
“They’re not simply dumped.
They’re arranged.
Like an offering… or a message.”
Davan kept his eyes locked on the dark perimeter, hand resting on the hilt of his blade.
“Tracks lead in.
None lead out.
Whatever did this is still nearby.”
Rai straightened slowly, his expression calm and flat, betraying none of the storm building inside him.
He looked at the bodies, the careful spacing, the identical strangulation marks.
“This wasn’t meant to be hidden,” he said finally.
His voice carried through the unnatural silence.
“Someone wanted it found.”
The jungle seemed to lean in closer, as if listening.
Rai turned to Bahadur, who stood like a mountain behind him.
“Double the guard around the site.
No one touches anything until we finish documenting.
And send word to Ashura.
This is bigger than a simple bandit attack.”
Bahadur nodded grimly.
As the officers worked under lantern light, Rai crouched again beside one of the victims — a young man not much older than Rusi had been when he first dreamed of serving the empire.
The same faint, almost gentle mark circled the throat.
In the distance, a soft, four-note hum seemed to drift through the trees before fading away.
Rai’s eyes narrowed.
Whatever hunted these roads was no ordinary predator.
And it was only getting started
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