Apophis

As Apophis, Finn, and Cyrus ventured deeper into the heart of the forest, an eerie stillness hung in the air. The dense canopy above grew darker, the light filtering through tinged with an unnatural gloom. The further they walked, the more lifeless the forest seemed—trees twisted and gnarled, their leaves brittle and brown, while roots tangled across the ground like skeletal hands grasping at the earth.

“This is it,” Finn muttered, eyes darting around. “We’re getting close now. The elves... they live near the heart of the forest.”

Just as the words left his mouth, a sharp gust of wind whipped through the clearing, followed by a volley of glowing, green arrows. They hissed as they flew, embedding themselves into the ground around the trio with precise intent. The arrows sparked with energy, sending small shocks into the earth, and the message was clear: Turn back.

Cyrus immediately bristled, fists clenching at his sides. "Oh, so that’s how it is? They wanna play rough?" He took a step forward, a snarl curling on his lips. "I’ll show them rough."

Before Cyrus could charge, the ground trembled, and the trees rustled with unseen movement. From the shadows of the ancient trees emerged several ethereal figures—elves, their eyes glowing with an eerie green light, their forms blending with the forest around them. They raised their bows again, silently drawing the string taut as they aimed directly at the group.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Apophis said cautiously, holding up a hand in a gesture of peace. He could feel the hostility in the air, thick and dangerous. Finn stepped beside him, his expression tense.

The lead elf, a tall and slender figure with vine-like hair and skin that shimmered like dew on leaves, stepped forward. Her eyes narrowed in disdain as she looked over the group, but her gaze lingered longest on Cyrus. “Leave. Now,” she commanded, her voice cold and cutting like the wind. “This place is sacred. We do not welcome warmongers.”

Cyrus sneered, about to bark a retort, but Apophis shot him a warning glance. "Not now," he muttered under his breath.

But the big crocodile wasn’t one to back down easily. “They think they can scare us with some fancy arrows and glowing eyes?” Cyrus growled, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a fight. “Fuck this. We’ll take them all.”

Finn, sensing things were about to escalate, whispered quickly, “Cyrus, don't. Elves aren't just about tricks—they can kill you before you even know what hit you.”

Cyrus spat on the ground, glaring at the elves. “I don’t care. I’m not backing down.”

Just as the tension reached its peak, a familiar presence filled the air—a calm, yet commanding force. Apophis felt a chill crawl down his spine as Asheron’s spectral form materialized beside him. His master stood tall, his ethereal figure radiating a power that seemed to calm the entire grove. The elves, once poised to attack, faltered.

The lead elf’s eyes widened in shock, her bow lowering slightly. “You... you’re still here? After all these years?”

Asheron nodded slowly, his voice steady and wise. “I have returned for a reason. This one,” he gestured to Apophis, “is the key to the forest’s future.”

The elf’s expression softened, though there was still caution in her eyes. “And you chose him?”

“I did,” Asheron said simply, his presence commanding respect. “Let them pass.”

The elf hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering between Apophis and Asheron. With a deep breath, she lowered her weapon completely. The other elves followed suit, though their eyes still lingered suspiciously on Cyrus. “Very well. But not all of you are welcome.”

Her eyes settled on Cyrus, her voice turning cold again. “Your kind does not belong here. The heart of the forest will not allow those who thirst for blood.”

Cyrus, clearly insulted, took a threatening step forward. “Oh yeah? You gonna try and stop me?”

Before the situation could spiral out of control again, Apophis quickly intervened. “Cyrus, stand down. We’re here for help, not a fight.”

The tension lingered for a beat, but Cyrus grudgingly backed off, muttering under his breath. "Fine. But don’t expect me to bow to a bunch of tree huggers."

The lead elf sighed, her gaze softening slightly as she turned back to Apophis. “Your master’s influence is the only reason we are allowing you through. The heart of the forest is fading, and time is running out for all of us.”

She gestured for them to follow her, leading the group deeper into the forest. The atmosphere grew heavier with each step, the trees surrounding them now ancient and vast, their twisted forms barely clinging to life. Soon, they reached a small clearing where the forest opened up to reveal a massive tree. Its bark was cracked and darkened, its branches bare and gnarled, with only a few dying leaves clinging to its skeletal form.

“This is where it all began,” Finn whispered, his voice full of reverence. “The elves’ home... this tree used to bloom with life, green leaves stretching to the sky. Now look at it.”

The elf turned to them, her expression sorrowful. “Rakar’s influence is spreading. His madness has poisoned the very heart of this forest. If nothing is done, everything here will die.”

She stepped forward and gently touched the tree’s bark, which emitted a faint, pulsing light. “There is still hope, but you must become stronger before you face him. Deep within the forest lies a spring, a source of life and power. It can purify and strengthen you... but not all of you are worthy.”

Her eyes landed once again on Cyrus.

Cyrus scowled. “What is it with you people and your tests? Let me through. I’ll prove my worth.”

“It’s not a matter of proving anything,” the elf said calmly. “The spring will reject you because of the blood on your hands. It is a place of peace and healing, not violence.”

Finn smirked, casting a sideways glance at Cyrus. “She’s got a point. You’ve kind of got a reputation, big guy.”

Cyrus huffed, fists clenching in frustration. “Fine. Then what do we do?”

The elf’s gaze softened slightly. “I will make an exception. But only because of your master.” She nodded at Asheron. “His presence is enough to sway the forest’s will, for now.”

Reluctantly, Cyrus nodded. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

As the group prepared to move deeper into the forest, Apophis couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. The dying tree, the poisoned forest—everything was connected. And as Asheron’s spectral form flickered beside him, Apophis knew that the battles ahead would test more than just their strength.