After the battle with the Heartwood, the tunnels opened into a quiet grove hidden deep within the jungle. Birds called above, their songs weaving a strange calm through the thick air. Soft rays of sunlight slipped down through gaps in the canopy, lighting the mossy ground like a thousand gentle lanterns.
Amira collapsed onto a smooth rock, tossing her bow aside and wiping sweat from her brow. Aren dropped to the ground nearby, breathing hard, his sword resting across his knees.
"Finally," he groaned. "A break. My feet feel like they fought a war all on their own."
Amira smirked. "You complain too much."
"And you talk too little," he shot back, grinning.
She shook her head but didn't hide her small smile. After a moment, she stood and started gathering nearby fruits and leaves, moving swiftly, her hands sure and practiced. Aren watched, impressed despite himself.
"You sure those aren't poison?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
She glanced at him sharply. "If they were, you'd be the first to know."
He laughed, then stood to help, gathering firewood and snapping dry branches. Soon, they had a small fire crackling, the scent of roasting fruit and crisped leaves filling the clearing. Amira handed him a piece of golden, slightly charred fruit.
Aren bit into it, his eyes widening. "Oh, this is good. Sweet, a little smoky... you sure you don't run a jungle restaurant on the side?"
Amira snorted softly, shaking her head. "Eat,you're funny"
As they ate, they shared stories between mouthfuls ,Aren's wild, exaggerated tales from the kingdom, Amira's quieter but sharper stories of surviving the jungle, learning its secrets and reading the runes left by ancestors long forgotten.
When the food was gone and the fire burned low, they found a small spring nearby. Aren splashed water over his face, sighing deeply, while Amira knelt to fill her leather flask.
"This place," Aren murmured, staring at the way the sun danced on the water, "it almost makes me forget we're hunting some ancient power."
Amira nodded, her expression distant. "Sometimes, the jungle gives you peace... just before it takes it away again."
A hush fell over them as they drank and washed away the sweat and dust. Then Amira stood, her eyes brighter.
"It's time," she said firmly.
They gathered their things and started moving again, pushing deeper toward the final path to the Core of Muri Khan. Roots curled overhead like giant serpents, old stones marked the way with glowing symbols, and distant animal cries echoed in the air.
Days seemed to blur into one another ,fights against cunning traps, narrow escapes from cave-ins, quiet moments sharing dried fruits and stories beneath moonlight. Through it all, they began to move together almost instinctively. Her bow covered his back, his blade cleared her path. When she faltered, his jokes carried her forward; when he slipped into recklessness, her sharp words pulled him back.
Finally, after many trials, they reached a great doorway carved into a mountainside, the final entrance to the Core. But instead of stepping forward, they stood in silence.
Amira glanced at Aren, her face soft. "We're close... but it feels like we've already found something."
Aren tilted his head, smiling gently. "You mean, each other?"
She rolled her eyes, cheeks flushing slightly. "Don't ruin it with your jokes."
He laughed, stepping forward to squeeze her shoulder. "Don't worry. Let's finish this."
But before they could continue, Amira touched her forehead to his briefly, a rare, silent gesture of trust.
They turned back together, deciding to return home first. The Core would wait.
The Home coming
When they finally stepped out of the jungle's edge, Aren stretched his arms to the sky, breathing deeply.
"Ahh! Fresh kingdom air that doesn't taste like moss and panic," he shouted.
Amira stepped beside him, her eyes wide as she looked at the distant village built along shimmering riverbanks, fields of wildflowers waving in the breeze. She looked almost like she belonged there ; hair catching the sunlight, eyes bright, cheeks colored by adventure and laughter.
As they entered the village, people turned to stare, whispers rushing through the crowd. Amira walked slightly behind Aren, shy under the admiring stares.
Children pointed, wide-eyed. Elders leaned forward on their canes, muttering blessings. Young men gawked openly at her, some dropping baskets and tools.
Aren turned to her, winking. "Careful. You might cause a few fainting spells today."
Amira's face turned even pinker. She punched him lightly on the arm, though she couldn't hide her laugh.
Aren guided her toward a hidden entrance beside a small market stall. He pulled her down a narrow staircase carved from old stones, leading into an underground room lit by dozens of tiny lanterns. The walls were covered in maps, old scrolls, and weapons.
"This... is where I think best," Aren said, throwing his arms wide. "Underground, away from all the shouting and the 'you should be more serious' speeches."
Amira turned slowly, taking it all in. Her fingers brushed over a faded map of the jungle. "It's... peaceful," she said softly.
He nodded, leaning against a shelf. "It's yours too, if you want it."
Amira turned sharply to face him, surprise flickering in her eyes. Before she could speak, footsteps echoed above.
A deep, commanding voice called down. "Aren! Open up. Your prince demands your presence."
Aren's face darkened, his fingers tightening around his sword hilt. "The prince," he muttered. "That snake would show up now..."
Amira looked at him, worry flashing in her eyes.
Aren glanced back, his grin returning but tinged with something sharper. "Looks like our adventure's about to get a lot more crowded."
Above them, the prince waited — a man known for his greed, cruelty, and a dangerous obsession with anything beautiful... especially beautiful women.
Amira stepped closer to Aren, her bow now resting lightly in her hand, her expression guarded but ready.
Whatever came next, they would face it together. In the dark room, under the faint glow of lanterns, their bond felt stronger than any blade.
And somewhere, in the depths of the prince's twisted mind, another game was already unfolding.