Before the beast could recover, Bai was suddenly yanked away. A massive branch, thicker than his whole body, snatched him from the tiger's back and lifted him high into the air.
Below, the forest of devil trees was moving. Trunks twisted together, roots braided upward, branches fused into limbs. Within seconds, Myrren's form rose from the chaos, thirty houses tall, thorns unfolding across her body like armor.
She plucked Bai from the branch that held him and dangled him in front of her face.
"You stink."
Ilyth, however, remained spread across the forest, her bright canopy still covering half the battlefield.
"Well?" Myrren demanded. "What did you see?"
Bai's mind was still flooded with images, paws fumbling with cooked meat, a tongue trying to form words and failing, the taste of fur and blood and self-loathing. He grabbed for something useful.
"Uh—"
Below, the tiger was already stirring. Its massive body shifted in the crater, claws scraping stone. One eye opened, then the other three. They found Bai instantly.
"It doesn't have a weakness—"
Myrren released him.
Bai screamed.
Before he could hit the ground, thick roots burst upward and caught him. He lay there, gasping, heart hammering.
"Thanks, Ilyth."
"Finish your sentence," Myrren growled.
The words tumbled out before Bai could order them. "It's not a beast. Not anymore, but not the way you think."
He pointed at the creature below, now pushing itself upright.
"That thing still has its mind. Human mind. I saw it—it stands upright, cooks meat, tries to speak. It's a person trapped in that body, still learning how to use it. That's why it moves wrong. That's why it keeps injuring itself."
The Sylvans went still. The entire forest held its breath.
"So if you want to defeat it… fight it like a person. Not an animal."
Myrren's eyes never left the tiger. It was already standing, matching their height, rolling its neck with a fighter's looseness.
"And its weakness?"
"The chest. There's some kind of essence there. You have to rip it out in one motion. If you hesitate, it can move the essence somewhere else in its body."
Myrren nodded slowly.
"Stand back."
---
The ground screamed.
Bai felt it before he saw it, thousands of roots tearing free from earth, bedrock shattering, boulders the size of wagons launching into the air. He stumbled back as Myrren's trees began to collapse inward, trunks twisting together with sounds like breaking bones. Roots thicker than tunnels braided upward, groaning. Branches fused into massive limbs, bark grinding against bark until they became something else entirely.
The sound that followed wasn't a roar. It was the groan of an entire forest shifting, and Bai pressed his hands to his ears but it didn't help—the noise came through his skull, his chest, the soles of his feet.
Thorns unfolded across Myrren's rising form, each one as long as a spear, dripping with something dark. Where they scraped the ground, stone hissed and melted.
Beside her, Ilyth began to reform. Her canopy spread outward like a poisoned cathedral, beautiful and wrong. Leaves dripped glowing sap. Where it touched the ground, stone didn't just melt; it ran, flowing like water before solidifying into jagged crystal. Vines coiled around her limbs like pythons, their tips ending in hollow needles that gleamed with lethal intent.
Bai backed away until his spine hit a rock wall.
The two Sylvans stood side by side. Towering. Thirty houses tall. They might easily be mistaken for contaminated monsters themselves.
Bai was standing at their feet, small enough to be crushed by a misplaced step, and he had never felt more like prey in his life.
They looked toward the crater where the tiger had fallen.
The beast rose from the pit. It stood upright again, matching their height. Then it reached down, its claws sank deep into earth and pulled out a massive boulder.
The tiger rolled its neck.
A loud crack echoed through the canyon.
It was ready to fight.
---
Myrren attacked first.
The ground exploded. Roots erupted from the earth like spears, shattering bedrock. Vines lashed forward, their ironwood thorns spinning like drills. Mist turned white with pulverized stone.
The tiger didn't panic.
It simply stepped aside.
Perfect footwork.
Then it swung the boulder.
The impact was catastrophic. Stone collided with living wood. The shockwave flattened trees across the battlefield. Golden sap burst into the air like blood. Where it struck stone, the rock hissed and melted.
Myrren's entire left side split open. The wound was large enough to drive a carriage through.
She screamed.
Not a single scream. Thousands. Every tree that formed her body cried out at once.
Yet she did not stop.
New trunks erupted from the wound itself. Ironwood bark sealed the gash within seconds. Fresh thorn-vines surged forward.
The tiger rolled beneath them.
It moved like a veteran warrior inside the storm. Its claws flashed, each one as long as a short sword. Four precise strikes. Four deep trenches opened across Myrren's leg. Sap poured from the wounds like waterfalls.
The tiger examined the golden liquid dripping from its claws.
Then it licked them.
The creature's face twisted.
"Bitter," it growled.