Moonlight spilled through the jungle canopy as Rita ran, her breath sharp and fast, leaves tearing at her legs while the ground slipped beneath her feet. Behind her came the thunder of something enormous. Branches cracked. The earth shook. When she dared to glance back, she saw it clearly at last—the orange gorilla, towering and feral, its fur blazing like fire against the blue night, eyes wild with instinct rather than malice.
The jungle itself seemed to recoil as the beast charged. This was not a demon, not a summoned horror like the Red Serpent or Dreadmurk. It was a creature of the jungle, ancient and powerful, driven by territory and fear. That truth mattered more than anything else.
Faro burst from the foliage beside her, red hair catching the moonlight, his presence steadying her panic. Together they ran, their footsteps falling into rhythm as the gorilla closed the distance with terrifying speed. Faro raised his ring, energy gathering in his palm, but he hesitated. The Falcon power was not a weapon to be used blindly. It had rules older than the jungle itself. Wild jungle animals were not to be harmed. The ring could destroy deadly creatures born of corruption and darkness, but against living guardians of nature, it would only restrain, never kill.
When the gorilla lunged, Faro acted.
An orange beam erupted from the ring, not sharp with violence but blazing with command. It struck the ground and split into burning chains of light that wrapped around the gorilla’s massive body, driving it backward until it slammed against a giant tree. The chains crossed its chest and arms, glowing hot but causing no wounds, pinning it in place with relentless force. The beast roared, shaking the forest, but it could not break free.
Rita slowed, turning back as the danger faded into echoes. She watched Faro hold his stance, jaw set, arm trembling as he fed just enough power to keep the chains intact. When the gorilla finally sagged against the trunk, snarling in frustration rather than pain, Faro lowered his hand.
Silence returned, broken only by the jungle’s breath.
Rita stepped forward and placed her hand against Faro’s chest, her fear melting into relief. She laughed softly, breathless, and told him he had done it. He smiled back, tired but calm, knowing he had chosen the only path the Falcon power allowed.
Later, deep within the cave of Shecon, crystal light dancing across stone walls, they sat close together. Rita lifted a glass of mango juice between them, two straws leaning toward one another. They drank in silence, foreheads nearly touching, the sweetness cutting through the memory of fear. Outside, the jungle healed itself.
When the night grew quieter still, the orange chains dissolved back into sparks, freeing the gorilla at last. The beast roared once more—not in rage, but in defiance—before vanishing into the depths of the forest, unharmed, its domain restored.
The jungle had been challenged. The Falcon had answered. And balance, for now, remained unbroken.