He notched an arrow, aim at the snake.

  Harry’s fingers trembled as he pulled the string back. The wood of the bow creaked softly, a fragile sound in the vast, ruined silence of the forest. His breath slowed, not because he was calm, but because his body had nothing left to give. Across from him, the snake shifted, its massive coils sliding over crushed leaves and broken branches. Its head turned slowly, eyes locking onto him.

  For a heartbeat, nothing moved. Then the snake twisted, its body beginning to coil sideways, already predicting the path of the arrow.

  The string snapped. The arrow screamed through the air. Too fast.

  The snake tried to bend away, but the arrow was already there. It struck with a dull, hollow sound and bounced off the thick scales. It spun uselessly and disappeared into the darkness.

  The snake groaned. A deep, guttural sound rolled from its chest, shaking the ground beneath Harry’s feet. Its body convulsed, coils tightening and loosening violently. Then its throat bulged.

  Harry’s heart slammed against his ribs.

  The snake retched. Larry spilled out onto the forest floor, slick with saliva and blood. His body hit the ground hard and did not move. His limbs lay twisted at unnatural angles. His chest did not rise.

  “No!” Harry whispered.

  The ground exploded as the snake surged forward. Harry threw the bow aside and ran. The distance between them vanished in seconds. The snake lunged, jaws wide. Harry met it head-on, roaring as he drove the God Hand into its jaw.

  The impact cracked through the forest like thunder.

  The snake’s head snapped sideways. Its body crashed down, flattening trees and ripping roots from the soil. Harry staggered back, pain shooting up his arm, his bones vibrating violently. He screamed and charged again, striking again and again, his blows heavy, desperate.

  The snake writhed. It struck back. Its tail slammed into Harry’s side, sending him skidding across the ground. He rolled, gasping, spitting blood. Before he could rise, the snake crashed down again, its weight shaking the earth.

  Harry pushed himself up, legs shaking. He struck again. Still the snake rose. Harry struck it down again. Yet it rose again.

  No matter how hard Harry hit, no matter how much force he poured into his left hand, the snake would not stay down. Its scales cracked, blood seeped between them, but its eyes burned with the same terrible life.

  It groaned again and surged forward. Harry braced himself, teeth clenched, muscles screaming. Then a voice cut through the chaos, sharp and urgent.

  “You can only kill it in his human form.” Harry froze mid-motion. The Monkey’s voice echoed in his head, clear and unmistakable. Master Fen’s words, carried through memory and instinct.

  Realization hit him like a blade to the chest.

  “No matter how much I fight,” Harry whispered hoarsely, backing away, “I can’t kill it.”

  The snake hissed, sensing the shift. It lunged again. Harry turned and ran.

  Branches whipped his face. Roots grabbed at his feet. The ground dipped and rose wildly beneath him. The snake followed, its massive body crashing through the forest, tearing a path of destruction behind it.

  Harry veered sharply, forcing the beast to turn. He ducked between thick trees, leapt over fallen trunks, skidded down slopes slick with mud and blood. The forest blurred around him. His lungs burned. His vision tunneled.

  The snake roared and lunged again.

  Harry spun and struck, fists flying, the God Hand slamming into flesh and scale. The snake recoiled, groaning loudly. Its body twisted violently. Then, before Harry’s eyes, its form began to change.

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  Scales rippled. Coils shrank and tightened. The massive body compressed inward, bones snapping and reforming. Fur burst through skin.

  The snake phased into a lion. A massive one. Its roar split the air.

  Harry staggered back, chest heaving. The lion shook its head, mane bristling, eyes blazing with fury. It crouched low, muscles bunching beneath golden fur.

  Behind them, Cole groaned softly. His fingers twitched. His eyes fluttered open. He pushed himself up slowly, head thundering.

  Larry lay nearby, unmoving. Cole’s breath hitched. “Larry!” Cole drew closer and punch his chest. “Get up!”

  The Monkey limped to his side, clutching its injured flank. “He still breathes,” it said quickly. “Barely.”

  Another blow landed on Larry’s chest, and he gasped back to consciousness.

  Cole sucked in a shaky breath. Then he heard it. Cracking wood. Heavy impacts. Fists slamming into flesh.

  “Benjamin is fighting with the beast,” the Monkey said, eyes fixed ahead. “We have to help him.”

  Cole forced himself to his feet. Larry stirred weakly, coughing, dragging air painfully into his lungs. He groaned, fingers curling in the dirt. Cole grabbed his arm and pulled him up. Together, they staggered toward the noise.

  They burst into a clearing just as the lion lunged. “Harry!” Cole shouted.

  Harry turned. His eyes widened for a split second. Then he ran.

  He bolted past them, heart hammering wildly. Cole and Larry followed without thinking, fear driving their legs. The lion roared and gave chase for a few steps, then slowed. Its movements grew heavy. Its breath came in ragged bursts. Exhaustion bent its spine.

  It stopped. The lion watched them disappear into the forest, chest heaving, eyes burning with hatred.

  Harry did not stop running. “Benjamin!” the Monkey called. “This way!”

  They followed the Monkey through the eastern part of the forest. The trees grew closer together, shadows thickening. The air felt heavier, damp and cold. Harry’s legs threatened to give out, but he forced them to keep moving.

  Then voices. Familiar. “Cole?”

  They burst through the undergrowth and collided with another group. Hands grabbed shoulders. Arms wrapped tight.

  “Larry,” Sammy whispered. His voice broke. They crashed into each other’s embrace, breathing hard, clinging like they might disappear if they let go.

  “We are alive,” Henderson muttered, almost unbelieving. “We are alive.”

  Harry staggered back, hands on his knees, sucking in air. Then he saw Collins.

  Collins stumbled toward them, eyes wide, skin pale, body shaking uncontrollably. His clothes were torn. His hands trembled as if they could not stop.

  “Where are the others?” Harry asked, forcing the words out.

  Collins broke.

  “He has them,” he cried, voice cracking. “He will eat them within the next two days.”

  The words hit like a blow.

  Silence spread through the group. Faces fell. Hands tightened into fists. Someone sobbed softly.

  The forest groaned around them, distant roars echoing faintly through the trees.

  The Monkey turned sharply. “Move,” it said. “Now.”

  They followed without question.

  The Monkey led them eastward, through narrow paths and jagged rocks, into the mouth of a cave hidden behind thick vines and stone. The air inside was cool and dark. Shadows swallowed them whole as they stepped inside.

  The forest noises faded.

  For the first time in what felt like forever, the boys could breathe.

  The boys set fire in the cave and sat around it in a broken circle. The flames licked the damp stone walls, throwing shadows that stretched and twisted like living things. No one spoke at first. The fire crackled. Water skins passed from hand to hand. No food. Only the hollow sound of swallowing and the louder protest of empty stomachs.

  A stomach growled. Loud. Then another.

  Collins rose suddenly. The movement was sharp enough to make everyone flinch. He crossed the space in three strides and slammed Harry against the cave wall. Stone scraped Harry’s back. His breath burst from his lungs.

  “Who are you?” Collins growled, forearm pressing into Harry’s throat. “Why do the creatures know you? Why do they call you Benjamin?”

  The fire popped. Harry’s eyes flicked sideways. The Monkey sat near the flames, tail curled tight around itself. It met Harry’s gaze and gave a small nod.

  “If you must create a team,” the Monkey said quietly, “you must create it in honesty.” Harry’s chest rose and fell slowly. Another voice echoed in his head. Older. Sharper.

  You must not share who you are with anyone.

  You must not let others see your hand.

  Lest they betray and kill you.

  Master Kangfu’s warning pressed down on him like weight.

  Around him, eyes burned with fear, suspicion, hunger. Survival sat in every stare. The forest did not care who they were. The creatures did not care. Only strength. Only truth sharp enough to cut.

  Harry shoved Collins back. Not with force. With resolve. “You want the truth?” Harry said, voice steady. “Then sit and hear.”

  The cave fell silent. Harry reached for his wrist. His fingers trembled once before he pulled the rubber covering free. It dropped to the stone floor with a soft slap.

  Bare skin met firelight. He closed his eyes. Faces rushed forward. Laughter. Spit. Stones thrown. Words sharp as knives. Bastard. Worthless. Mistake. The river’s cold grip. Water filling his lungs. Rage burning hotter than fear.

  His fist clenched. The glow crept up his arm. Green. Alive. The cave recoiled. Someone gasped. Someone stumbled back.

  “What is this?” Collins whispered, his voice no longer sharp, only thin.

  “The God Hand,” Cole breathed. His knees buckled slightly. He caught himself on the cave wall.

  Every boy there had heard the stories. The forbidden power. The hand that chose its bearer. The hand that could break kings and gods alike.

  “I thought it was just a myth,” Sammy said, barely audible. Harry opened his eyes. The glow reflected in them. “It wasn’t.”

  Silence swallowed the cave again. “I came in contact with it,” Harry continued, “when I was thrown into the Alabama River.”

  No one laughed. No one doubted. The fire burned lower. Shadows crept closer.

  They talked in low voices after that. Plans whispered. Fingers traced lines in the dirt. Harry spoke of luring the creature. Of forcing it into human form. Of timing and traps and angles. Heads nodded. Agreement came too easily.

  Too easily. When sleep finally dragged Harry under, it was sudden and deep. His body gave in before his mind could question the quiet.

  The fire died to embers. Eyes opened in the dark. Hands moved.

  Rope slid around wrists. Tight. Efficient. Cloth pressed over mouths. Breath came sharp and panicked. Harry’s eyes snapped open.

  Darkness. Stone. The muffled scrape of feet. He struggled. Rope bit into his skin. A shape loomed above him. Then another. Familiar silhouettes. No faces.

  The Monkey hissed beside him, bound the same way, eyes wide and furious.

  They were lifted. Dragged. Stone scraped Harry’s heels. His shoulder slammed against rock. Someone grunted with effort. Someone avoided his eyes.

  The cave mouth yawned open ahead. Pale morning light spilled in. Cold air hit his face.

  They crossed the forest floor in silence. No commands. No explanations. Only the soft thud of footsteps and the distant, waiting breath of the woods.

  Harry twisted his head, searching for a familiar face. He found none willing to meet his gaze. Ropes tightened. “Do not do this guys.” He pleaded.

  The forest opened ahead. Darker. Thicker. Hungry. They dragged him forward.