Chapter 8: Shadows of the Forest

The abyss reached up to claim him, but the darkness was suddenly shattered by a blinding, jagged flash of silver. A heavy weight collided with the air above the ravine. Arung didn't land on the ledge; he plummeted into the creature, his blade carving a burning path through its smoky hide.

They crashed into the mud together, rolling toward the precipice. Arung pinned the beast, his arm glowing with a furious, pulsating crimson light.

"Get up, Rangga!" Arung roared, his voice tearing through the jungle silence.

Rangga scrambled back, his breath hitching as he looked up. "Arung? You idiot, you could’ve died!"

"Move your legs or I’ll drag you myself!" Arung swung his sword, decapitating the hound with a sickening shimmer of energy. The beast dissolved into black soot.

"Look out—behind you!" Rangga screamed.

Two more shadows lunged from the undergrowth, their eyes burning with molten malice. Arung spun, parrying a clawed strike, but his movements were sluggish. He hissed, stumbling as a jagged, obsidian-tipped talon raked across his chest.

"Arung!" Rangga lunged forward, grabbing a heavy rock and slamming it into the side of the nearest shadow-creature. "Leave him alone!"

The creature recoiled, hissing as Rangga’s touch burned it. Arung took advantage of the hesitation, thrusting his blade into the creature’s heart.

"I told you... to stay back," Arung gasped, blood—black and viscous—seeping through his torn shirt. He collapsed to one knee, his blade clattering to the mud.

Rangga dove toward him, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist. "Shut up! Just shut up. Can you stand?"

"The poison," Arung wheezed, his eyes losing their focus. "It’s... it’s fast."

"Don't do this to me. Not now." Rangga hauled Arung’s dead weight upward, his boots skidding on the slick, blood-soaked earth. "You’re a stubborn, arrogant bastard, Arung Buntu. You don’t get to pass out in the middle of a forest."

"Rangga... leave me."

"Like hell I will." Rangga grunted, his shoulder burning with the effort of supporting the taller man. "You’re an anchor, right? Fine. So anchor yourself to me. Don’t you dare let go."

"I... I can’t... the cold..."

"I’ve got you." Rangga stumbled toward the tree line, his eyes scanning for cover. "See that ridge? There’s a cave. We’re going there."

"It’s too far," Arung whispered, his head lolling against Rangga’s shoulder.

"Then I’ll carry you. If you die, I’m burning that house down with your ghost inside it. You hear me?"

"You... you really are a nightmare," Arung breathed, a faint, ghost of a smirk touching his lips before he groaned in agony.

Rangga pushed forward, his muscles screaming. "Consider it my revenge for the kidnapping."

They reached the cave entrance, a shallow jagged scar in the rock face. Rangga shoved his way inside, dropping Arung onto the dry sand. He immediately began ripping at Arung’s shredded coat, his hands trembling.

"You’re freezing," Rangga said, his voice cracking. "What do I do? Tell me!"

Arung’s skin was turning a translucent, ghostly grey. The veins in his neck were pulsing with a sickly, black sludge. "The bond," Arung muttered, his teeth chattering. "It’s the only way... the heat."

"The heat? You mean... like before?"

"Extreme... physical contact," Arung whispered, reaching out to grab Rangga’s wrist with a hand that felt like a block of ice. "Do it. Or I... I won’t last the hour."

Rangga looked at the cave wall, then back at the man who had turned his life into a prison—and who was currently fading away before his eyes. "You’re a piece of work, you know that? We’re in the middle of a forest, fighting ghosts, and you’re still demanding I play nurse."

"Just... just do it, Rangga."

Rangga sighed, shaking his head. He pulled his shirt off, feeling the cold air bite at his skin, and crawled over to the prone man. "If you ever mention this to Ambe', I’ll kill you."

"I won’t... remember a thing," Arung murmured, though his eyes locked onto Rangga with a terrifying, desperate intensity.

Rangga pulled Arung up, pressing their chests together. He felt the ripple of the crimson marks, the way Arung’s body instinctively coiled against his, seeking the warmth like a starving animal.

"Is this better?" Rangga whispered, his breath ghosting against Arung’s ear.

"Keep... keep going."

Rangga felt a strange, electric snap in the air—the bond, vibrating between them. "I don’t know what’s going to happen to us when this is over, Arung. I really don’t."

"We’ll... we’ll deal with it," Arung rasped, his cold hands sliding under Rangga’s skin, tracing the glowing marks on his back. "As long as you’re here."

"I’m here," Rangga whispered, his pulse beginning to sync with the slow, dying thud of Arung’s heart.

"Rangga," Arung whispered, his voice gaining a sudden, dangerous edge. "The poison... it’s moving faster than I thought. It’s not just in the blood anymore. It’s... it’s looking for a way out."

"What are you saying?"

Arung’s eyes shifted, the molten crimson glow flaring, but now, a secondary, sickly black light leaked from the corners of his vision. "If I lose control, Rangga... you have to be ready to walk away. Don't look back."

"I told you, I’m not leaving you," Rangga said, tightening his grip.

"You don't understand," Arung gasped, his grip on Rangga’s shoulders turning bruisingly tight. "The Datu didn't just want me dead. They wanted you tainted. They wanted the anchor to become a vessel for the rot."

Rangga felt a sudden, sharp sting in his chest, right over his own mark. He pulled back, looking down. The crimson geometric lines on his skin were darkening, turning a bruised, violent violet.

"Arung... what’s happening to me?"

Arung’s face darkened with horror as he looked at the marks. "They didn't just poison me, Rangga. They used my blood to bridge the gap to you."

A low, guttural growl echoed from the back of the cave—not from a hound, but from Rangga’s own throat.

"Get away from me!" Arung commanded, struggling to push him off.

Rangga’s hands didn't obey. Instead, they gripped Arung tighter, his own eyes shifting, the natural brown being swallowed by a deep, unnatural darkness. "Why would I do that, Arung? We’re bound, aren't we?"

Rangga’s voice didn't sound like his own—it was layered, doubled, echoing with the sound of grinding stone.

"Rangga, fight it!" Arung shouted, his eyes widening in raw, naked terror.

"Fight it?" Rangga tilted his head, a predatory smile stretching his lips, though his own eyes were filled with tears of helplessness. "Why fight it, when it feels so... perfect?"

He leaned in, his forehead resting against Arung’s. The violet light from his marks surged, flowing directly into Arung’s wounds.

"Now," Rangga whispered, his voice vibrating with a thousand years of malice, "let's see who owns who."