Joaquin stood in silence, his gaze fixed on the sigils surrounding Jasmine. The steady rhythm of her breathing was the only proof that she was alive—if this state could even be called life. His soul, separated from his body. Jasmine, caught in the same fate. And a dark god named Neraxis was lurking somewhere in this forest realm.The mere thought made his jaw tighten."How long before we can return to our bodies?" he asked, not taking his eyes off Jasmine.Apo Damaso approached slowly, his long staff tapping softly against the earthy floor. "It depends on how quickly Jasmine recovers. Her soul is still fragile. Yours, though bruised, is stable."“I can’t just wait,” Joaquin muttered. “I have to do something.”“You will,” the elder replied. “But not as you are now.”Joaquin finally turned to face him. “What does that mean?”A faint smile ghosted over Apo Damaso’s lips, as though he had been expecting this. “There is a reason your soul was not destroyed, Joaquin. The Forest Realm acc

“We should go back to our bodies, Joaquin,” Jasmine said softly. “Dad might be worried by now.”Joaquin exhaled deeply. He sat at the small wooden table, sipping the herbal tea the villagers had prepared. Jasmine, meanwhile, stood by the window, quietly watching the strange realm outside.The villagers had given them a modest house to stay in while they remained in this dimension—a place both eerily tranquil and unnervingly unfamiliar.She was right. Joaquin didn’t even know how long they had been there. Time flowed differently in this world. They had no idea what was happening to their bodies back in the real world. Were they unconscious? In a coma? Were they even still alive?But more than anything, they needed to return—not just for their family’s sake, but for justice. Whoever had done this to them had to pay.“We can’t return just yet, Jasmine,” Joaquin said at last. “I still have something to finish here. I need to help them.”Jasmine turned from the window and walked toward him

Joaquin scanned the village around him. Several houses had been crushed in the beast’s rampage. The once beautiful and colorful village had been reduced to ruin in an instant.Bodies and wounded enkantado lay scattered across the ground. Though they were not of his kind, he still felt the sting of grief for them.“Help!” a voice cried out.Joaquin turned toward the sound and saw a female nuno lying prone, half her body pinned beneath a collapsed wall. Her face was bloodied.He rushed to her side, using his power to lift the heavy rubble off her. Then, without hesitation, he carried her to an empty lot where he quickly healed her wounds.“Th-thank you so much!” the nuno woman said, her voice trembling.Joaquin nodded but wasted no time. He moved swiftly to aid the other injured nuno scattered across the village.“Joaquin!” Apo Damaso called out. “We need your help inside!”Joaquin turned toward him. Deep worry was etched across the elder’s face. He moved quickly to his side.“Why? What

Joaquin’s breathing still rasped in his ears, harsh and uneven, every inhalation dragging against a throat raw from shouting and the acrid stench of blood. The beast’s body lay a few yards away, a crumpled heap of fur, bone, and unnatural sinew. Its lifeless eyes glimmered with the faintest residue of malice, as though death had not entirely claimed its rage.But the drums…They were still beating.Slow, deliberate, and heavy as a hammer striking the earth’s own heart. The rhythm rolled through the jungle floor, up through Joaquin’s boots, rattling his bones. It wasn’t just sound—it was a pulse, a living thing that seemed to reach into his chest and squeeze.And that was when t

The first leg of the journey was quiet—too quiet. That kind of quiet that didn’t comfort, but prickled at the skin, making every muscle expect something to break it.The Hollow Glade loomed ahead, its trees warped and skeletal, their trunks twisting like the spines of ancient beasts. Leaves shimmered in colors that didn’t belong—gold one moment, bleeding crimson the next—changing without the whisper of wind.The moment Joaquin crossed the threshold between the first two trunks, the air shifted. A smell of rain clung to the forest, though the ground beneath was bone dry. A child’s laughter danced faintly between the trees—light, fleeting—then cut off mid-breath.A flicker of movement darted at the edge of his vision: a figure running just ahead, vanishing behind a tree.He didn’t follow.The queen’s warning rang sharp in his mind: Not all you see in the Glade exists in your moment.But the shadows began to betray him. They stretched long and thin like sunset silhouettes, only to snap b