My Wild Beast

The pair were led past all the tribes and into the Sacred Lands none were allowed to enter except for certain times of the moon cycle.

Before their trial could begin Yoa and Vulcan stood before their totems. Vulcan sneered at the Oncari statue in passing before his wings spread wide before his own wooden eagle. The Oncari statue was larger than the others, standing taller and wider, central and shown as more important, revealing the island or the Kairans' favouritism for the apex predator. Many times a jaguar has taken the place as Tayun's guardian.

If Vulcan claimed victory today, he would only be the second harpy eagle ever to fly the sacred path. Yoa, while one of many Oncari guardians before him, would be the second youngest ever entrusted with the guardian's title. In the wild it wasn't uncommon for the children to grow quick into adulthood. Their survival depended on it, with or without their parents help.

Yoa recently partook in his rite of passage, a trial of another in his tribe for those usually in their sixteenth dances of the sun and moon and onwards to prove they were warriors. Aware of Yoa's abilities, and those of his daughter's and friends, Chief Tamuari sent them on their merry way to prove to the rest of the tribe that age means nothing when one has the heart of a warrior. Their celebrations had been longer this time because Aiyana had partaken in the rite and proven her worth at the young age of thirteen.

Once they paid their respects to the totems, Yoa and Vulcan were led down a path that darkened, the cavernous rock blocking out the sunlight, the leaves growing darker and the air chilly. Vulcan glanced behind him at Yoa, who was four dances of the sun and moon younger. The boy had shot up like a tree, since the last time he saw him—lean, already packing on muscle—but his baby features hadn't yet sharpened with age.

He was almost the same height as Vulcan now. Usually that didn't mean anything among most giants of the jungle. But Yoa was still so young, and a potential guardian of Tayun. If he was not successful today, Vulcan knew Yoa would not be one to mess with once he grew older and wiser. Though there was a sense of wisdom beyond the young jaguar's years lurking behind those eyes, and he didn't like it.

Harpy eagles were known for their cunning—the rulers of the sky. Monkeys for their wisdom, though prey to others. Crocodiles were creatures of patience and resilience, driven by an eternal hunger for power, shown in their scaled muscles. But the jaguar… Vulcan's glare sharpened on his rival… The jaguar was 'the soul of the jungle'. Silent rulers of the land, feared and revered, said to walk between worlds. That was why they were chosen more than any other to become Yiska, or so those aware of the guardian, believed.

"Hold on!" Nova interrupted the storytelling. As much as she didn't want to, a question burned on her tongue.

Yoa chuckled, already sensing what his Serakai was about to ask. He tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, holding back his grin. "Yes?"

"How did you know what Vulcan was thinking? Can you read minds as Yiska too?" Nova all but blurted, out of breath like she couldn't hold back. She was so excited by this idea. Already, she knew their new bond could send messages between each other, whether that was just emotional or actual thoughts was yet to be proven to them.

Yoa grazed his lips against her temple, inhaling her scent before he answered simply with, "I cannot read minds. But Yiska was connected to Vulcan, with all of the marked ones before he cut them loose. I have access to their thoughts, their memories before this because they were once a part of me too. Does this make sense?"

"Yes and no," Nova whispered in awe of what Yoa had just told her. "That's utter madness."

But what wasn't? She was just accepting everything about this island now. She would not be surprised if dinosaurs started to suddenly roam Tayun.

"Yiska split his soul for a moment and shaped himself to merge with a marked one. In the end, there would only be one that suited both marked one and Yiska. It only means that Yiska and I were always meant to be, just like you and I," Yoa said, his voice a soft caress that made her heart flutter.

Back to the story. Yoa skipped ahead, ignoring the need to describe the Sacred Lands when Nova has already been there.

Both Yoa and Vulcan's phantom guides led past the Sacred Lands and into some caves. They opened out to a cliff, the path narrow and only wide enough for the four of them to walk in one line. Yoa presumed the guides were phantoms and could not die, or were already dead, and Vulcan could just fly off if he were to fall. Yoa was the only one left who could not fly but would need to think fast, or hope the fall into the ocean wouldn't break his legs or back.

None of that happened and this wasn't the trial. He'd known it wouldn't be that simple. None of them had been. Even the first trial, meant to test survival and strength, demanded more. Yoa had learned more about the jungle, its creatures, and their patterns until Yoa had nearly become as feral as the beast within him.

They ventured back inside the caves, the space tight for Vulcan and Yoa as they breathed in, barely avoiding the rocky surfaces from scratching the skin on their shoulders, chests and abs. Then when their sight had been completely taken from the darkness, the space opened up and only the dim glow of worms lit up the ceiling until the cave parted into three pathways.

They went through the middle path that allowed darkness to fall over them again until the soft glow of starlight twinkled in the purple-blue liquid thrumming with power above them. Yoa stared in awe, wanting to reach up and touch one of the stars and the watery substance they shimmered in. The liquid ceiling was vast.

They couldn't see the end of it, and occasionally ripples in the water distorted the image of the galaxy above them, revealing the bright blue skies and the palm trees and crowding over one side of it.

"Is this Luna Lacus?" Yoa whispered in awe.

"It is," Zahul answered. "We are standing beneath it."

"How is that possible?" Vulcan asked, tilting his head to the side and began strolling from side to side like he might be able to figure out how the lake was above them without crushing, and drowning them.

"How are the Ancients possible? How is the island and all its life even real?"Vulcan's guide murmured mystically, almost to the wind. "Some truths lie beyond our reach—meant only for Tayun and the Kairan to know."

"Come," Zahul interrupted, shaking his staff to grab their attention before turning his back to them. They followed the sound of the shells clicking together along the thudding of the staff to the ground. The walk dragged on for hours and the goosebumps pebbling their skin calmed to the heat of their exertion.

Ahead, stalactites curved down like frozen fangs from Luna Lacus, and beneath the two largest tips shimmered twin pools of still, crystal-clear water. It looked impossibly refreshing, especially after their mini hike beneath the magical lake, their bodies already growing dehydrated from the effort.

For a moment, Yoa wondered if that was part of the trial—to resist the urge to drink after a draining walk, only to stand before what looked like the purest, most tempting water he had every laid his eyes upon. But that too, was also, simple.

"The moment you drink, the trial begins." Vulcan's guide gestured towards the two pools that Yoa was sure he could hear a low, angelic voice singing from.

Zahul and the other guide stepped between Vulcan and Yoa, their backs to each other as they gestured with skeletal fingers towards the water.

"The first taste unlocks the path," Zahul began.

"But many walk it and never return." The other guide continued.

"You must wake yourself," Zahul croaked then whispered, "… Or be lost forever."

That whisper sent a shiver down Yoa's spine. He knew the depth of those words.

Vulcan and Yoa shared a hard look before they reached forward. Yoa's hands scooped up the water and Zahul guided his hands to his mouth, ensuring Yoa tipped all the contents of the crisp, refreshing water down his throat until the very last drop.

As soon as Yoa's head was tipped all the way back, his skin heated, his throat grew parched and sweat beaded on his forehead, his hair clinging to his skin as his heart galloped, trying to beat out of his chest.

"Zahul?" He gasped, clutching at his throat like the water was a poison.

"Trust your instincts. Trust your mind. Follow the path," Zahul whispered his last advice before Yoa collapsed, hitting the back of his head on the rocky ground with a loud thud.