moni uddin

Heal the Land

Horntree Village, Spring

Apollo didn’t like my choice. He said that without proper training, I would perish as soon as the beast got a hold of me. I was lucky last time, and I think we both know that.

Still, this feels like the right choice. There’s something about all of this that goes beyond just bestial instinct. Only the eldest of Horntree residents remember the fall of the village, and few even want to speak of it. They describe the grass springing up overnight, the first roar, and how the villagers retreated to this secluded centre.

But why did it all stop here? Why not overtake everything, hunt everyone? It feels as if the beast had left a reminder—maybe even the opportunity for a second chance.

When I asked Tess about it, she just smiled and said, “It’s easier for us to blame the world than to look inward.”

Today’s the day. My last journal entry before I search for the spirit grounds and confront the beast. I need courage now more than ever. But when I feel scared, I will try to remember what it’s all for.

Sable closed his journal and tucked it into his pouch. His ears flattened as he assessed the towering wall of grass at the edge of Horntree village. That familiar fear began to rise inside him, but he squeezed the sphere from Tess tightly, holding it like a promise—to do right by it and the village.

With one final, deep breath for courage, Sable pushed past the wall and entered the beast’s domain once more.

The path north was a dirt path just visible below Sable’s feet. Around him, the grass obscured all and rustled ominously in the wind. He made sure his movements were softer, more precise than when he was last in the grasslands. He had also left behind his cloak and pack, travelling only with his belt, which held the sphere in its pouch—an attempt to avoid the beast catching his scent. 

There seemed to be no sign of the beast. Instead, Sable felt its presence, the faint sense of a predator still unaware of the invader in its territory. Sable’s eyes continued darting around in every direction, even though it only met grass.

Eventually, the history of Horntree revealed itself along the path, as cottages and taverns became just visible amidst the grass. Sable also saw small gardens with stone shrines, but they were not like the sanctuary that was lovingly tended by Tess. Neglect had overtaken them, allowing them to be overgrown and almost hidden by the tall grass.

Then Sable heard a distant roar and rumble that sent vibrations through the ground, travelling far and wide. The beast knew. Adrenaline surged through Sable, and he quickened his pace, staying light on his paws. The path split, just as Tess had warned, and Sable veered left. The grass became thicker, relentless in its attempt to block his way. It rose like green walls, forcing him to smash through.

Finally, the grass parted, and Sable stumbled into a clearing. He rubbed the grazes on his legs from his frantic escape and scanned his surroundings. Bare flowerbeds lay in neat rows, intersected by stone pathways and benches worn by time. It all led to an intricate stone mural in the centre of the clearing, engraved with ancient patterns. A faint sweetness hung in the air, as though the flowers that had once bloomed there still whispered their presence.

Time seemed to stop as Sable replayed how the grounds might have looked in their prime. He imagined a place brimming with life and beauty, vibrant with energy and purpose. Certain he had reached the spirit grounds, Sable retrieved the sphere, studying its simple design. The open top revealed the sapling inside, a vibrant green sitting on the soil, like a symbol of renewal. 

A thunderous rumble shook the earth, breaking his focus. The beast was close, its presence undeniable. The ground vibrated under its heavy steps, and a low grunt echoed through the grass. Fear rooted Sable in place as he glimpsed a glint of gold in the blades. The beast’s pierced ebony snout parted the grass as it slowly emerged from the field.

The snout twitched and sniffed, tasting the air and closing in on the scent that had eluded it before. Then, the nose stopped twitching. Its nostrils faced Sable, and for a split second, everything was still. A screeching roar sent Sable tumbling to the ground, and the sphere rolled from his grip, coming to rest several paces away.

Sable dared not move as the beast entered the spirit ground. He couldn’t anyway; his body had become paralysed by fear. The beast approached him, its eyeless sockets locked onto his form. Sable’s ears flattened as every hair on his body stood on end. He quivered, fixing his gaze on the ground beneath him, waiting. 

But nothing happened. Slowly, Sable raised his head to see the beast standing still in front of him, its massive frame looming. It exhaled sharply, its presence no longer hostile but watchful, as though weighing his purpose. But why? Was it letting him go or waiting to attack?

Sable’s eyes flicked toward the sphere lying in the distance. Could it be? Does it know? He wanted to get the sphere and complete the task. But his body resisted, paralysed by the enormity of the moment. Then, he tried to remember why he was there, what it was all for. The plight of Horntree village, the cattlefolk on the edge of survival, the calves without a childhood. He had promised himself he would help if he could. That promise still held.

Blood and courage rushed through his veins this time, blending into a powerful concoction of resolve that invigorated his muscles. Movement returned to his upper body, and Sable began crawling toward the sphere, inch by inch. The beast’s massive head followed everything, releasing small grunts, yet it didn’t attack. When Sable finally reached the sphere, he clutched it, protecting it with his body. He scrunched his face, hoping the beast would let him continue. It did.

Courage surged through his body again, and he regained control of his legs. He stood trembling as he figured out how to walk again as the beast towered over him. For a moment, Sable looked at it—quiet defiance flickering in his eyes—before Sable turned and lurched toward the mural. When he reached the opening, he placed the sphere inside with deliberate care.

Sable felt the fear dissipate; he had done his part—whatever happened after was out of his control. However, he still did not dare to look at the beast. Instead, he closed his eyes and waited. 

He had not expected to get this far. The pounding steps of the beast returned, but this time, they were retreating. Sable turned around in time to see its tail flicking through the grass, disappearing out of sight. Then, a flash of white light spilt from between the blades, stunning him. Sable felt as if a heavy weight was finally released. He no longer sensed the beast’s presence.

Before Sable could process what had happened, a powerful gust of wind surrounded him, flattening the grass in every direction like a tornado but leaving him untouched. When the wind settled, Sable saw the land as it once was: small rolling hills that held the ruins of Horntree. All paths led to the village centre in the distance, where he could just make out the cattlefolk coming out of their homes, tasting freedom once more. 

Around him, the grass crumbled into a grey dust, which was swept away by the wind and scattered across the hills. The air grew lighter as the scent of earth and flowers returned to the grounds. Sable stared at the transformed land, a new realisation dawning. The sphere, the spirit grounds, and Tess’s faith had all led to this moment. At first, it felt like he had done little, but he then realised he had carried Horntree’s collective promise to do better—a chance to rebuild and honour their history. 

Towards the north, the base of the Blue Mountain stared at him, just a day’s walk away. Sable held its gaze this time, his chest rising with newfound confidence. The small courage he had shown for the cattlefolk seemed to ripple outward. He realised then that the challenges ahead were no longer beyond him but were stepping stones waiting to be crossed with brave purpose.

Courage, he now understood, begins in small, meaningful moments. But once it takes root, it becomes a foundation to build upon and draw from in the hardest times.