Different Fates, One Destiny***

The forest was watching them, each breath they took judged by the unseen. They were trespassers here, interlopers in a forgotten realm. Every rustle, every groan of ancient boughs, was a whisper of warning, a promise of retribution should they linger.

Deynfif hacked a path through the grasping thorns, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. Their boots sank into the soft, decaying earth, each step punctuated by the squelch of decomposing matter. The thick smell of moss and rot clawed at his nostrils, vying with the acrid tang of his rising anxiety. His knuckles whitened around the rough surface of his Earth Wand, a desperate point of focus in the swirling gloom.

Leaves whipped at Hirua's face like angry lashes. He hissed under his breath, the shifting shadows prickling his skin. They shimmered and flowed, as if the forest breathed with an unsettling, independent life. A flash of acid green – eyes? – flickered in the gloom, then vanished. His hand tightened around the hilt of his Fire Blade, the familiar heat a meager comfort against the encroaching chill.

Einntyr stumbled over a jutting root, barely stifling a yelp of pain. His usual bluster replaced by a taut silence, he kept his head low as mocking Whispers seemed to bore holes into his back. Every sound, every rustle of disturbed leaves, sent his heart pounding against his ribs. His bandaged fists, bound and battle-ready, pulsed against his sides with pent-up energy.

"There," Deynfif whispered, stopping sharp. He pointed towards a clump of twisted trees, where a patch of ferns lay flattened. "Fresh tracks."

Hirua crouched low, studying the disturbed earth. "Muckledeor," his voice barely a whisper and gravelly. "Bigger than usual."

Einntyr nodded, his broad smile unwavering. "A worthy challenge!"

Deynfif shot him a stern look. "Focus now. This won't be easy."

They crept forward, muscles coiled tight, senses peeled raw. The forest grew silent, but not a natural quiet. It felt forced, as if every creature had been choked into submission. A gust of wind swept through Hirua's hair, cold and probing, like the unseen eyes of the forest upon him – then, a low snort shattered the quiet, followed by the unmistakable sound of something massive crashing through the undergrowth.

"Behind!" Hirua roared, whirling around, blade at the ready.

“GRRRRROOOOOOAAAaaa!”

There, a hulking beast of muscle and fur exploded from the undergrowth. Enormous, curved horns flashed with wicked intent in the dappled light. Deynfif thrust his wand downwards, a jagged Earth wall erupting from the ground – a frantic barrier against the beast's charge. The wall shattered like brittle clay as the Muckledeor thundered through. Too strong!

Hirua was already in motion, a blur of raven and crimson. Fire danced along his blade, a searing kiss on the creature's flank. The beast roared in fury, whipping its head around. Blood welled from the gash on its side.

"Hah, barely a scratch!" Hirua rolled away as the Muckledeor lowered its horns for another charge. The horns caught Hirua square on the shoulder, sending him flying through the air. He slammed into a thick oak, gasping for breath. Urgh!

"Brother!" Einntyr bellowed. Seizing his chance, Einntyr hurled a rock at the beast's head. "Over here, you hairy lump!"

The Muckledeor turned its attention on Einntyr, snorting steam from its flaring nostrils. “GRRROOOOOAAAAA!” With a bellow, it charged after him, hooves pummeling the forest floor in a lumbering ballet of displaced earth and snapping branches. The beast barreled through the undergrowth, the sound of its pursuit a thunderous echo behind him. Vines snaked out from the foliage, wrapping around his ankles, thorns digging into his flesh. The forest was turning against him! Branches thrashed like angry arms – or was his terror warping this sanctuary into a nightmare? Each frantic breath filled his lungs with lead, heavier with every heartbeat. His chest throbbed, a cage about to shatter.

Just as the beast's horns threatened to pierce him — "Deynfif, heeeelp!" and the earth answered. THRUM! The ground beneath the beast’s massive form collapsed. Deynfif had opened a hidden pit, and the Muckledeor crashed down, its bellow cut short with a sickening thud.

Einntyr staggered, gasping for breath. "Not over yet." He dug his heels into the earth, legs braced, arms outflung. His right hand erupted in crimson embers, sizzling like wildfire. A swirling green vortex formed in his left, whipping the air into a frenzy.

"Fire and Air Style!" He slammed his hands together.

BOOM! Violet sparks crackled across his skin as raw lightning arced between his palms.

"Lightning Palm Strike!" With a primal roar, Einntyr lunged, slamming his charged hands into the Muckledeor's exposed flank. A blinding bolt of electricity surged through the beast, its fur erupting in smoke as it convulsed.

The beast's growls morphed into a guttural rasp, each inhale rattling like a death cough. Yet, beneath the pain, a primal fire reignited in its eyes, fixing Einntyr with a gaze that promised vengeance. Not dead yet, huh? A shiver, not entirely unpleasant, traced down Einntyr’s spine.

A streak of black and flame flashed through the air – Hirua, propelled by Deynfif's earthen surge, slammed into the Muckledeor's back. His knee connected with its neck, and his fiery blade flashed in a deadly arc, carving through fur and flesh with lethal accuracy.

Rage-filled, a bellow like rolling thunder tore from the Muckledeor's throat as its legs buckled. It slammed into the forest floor with a shuddering thump, its massive horns narrowly missing Einntyr as it collapsed. The earth trembled, then shuddered to a halt. Its enormous body twitched once, then lay still. Silence fell, a heavy shroud over the clearing. A choking haze, thick with the stinging scent of burnt fur and seared flesh – a bitter echo of the monster's final roar.

Hirua rolled off the remains, panting heavily. Sweat stung his eyes, his vision swam. A metallic tang coated his tongue. Had I been struck a heavy blow? A dull throb pulsed in his shoulder, a reminder of the beast's horns.

Silence settled over the clearing, broken only by the ragged breaths of the hunters. Sweat trickled down their foreheads, their chests rising and falling with exhaustion.

Einntyr, his belly straining against his tunic like a well-stuffed sausage, could barely contain his excitement. His face broke into a wide grin, splitting open like a ripe melon. "That was a smasher, brother! What legendary combo are we calling that, then?"

"Spare me the fancy labels, Einntyr," Hirua snorted, a sharp exhalation that ruffled the leaves at his feet. "Results are the only seasoning a warrior needs on his plate."

The light in Einntyr's eyes dimmed a notch. "But a name helps you knead the energy, brother! Like focusing a storm's fury," he gestured towards the crater, "into a single, thunderous punch!"

Hirua sheathed his blade with a practiced flourish, the sound of elemenium a sharp punctuation to Einntyr's words. “Enough with the flowery speeches, Einntyr. Real warriors don't need fancy spells or whispered names to fight." He patted his stomach with a smirk. "Strength simmers in your gut, not your head. You think a catchy tune makes a stew any tastier?"

Squares and circles, always at odds. Deynfif sighed internally, stepping between his brothers. Time to find the connecting line. His voice, a calming tenor, entered the fray like a peacemaker navigating a bustling market. "Einntyr's viewpoint holds weight," he began.

He moved between them, a tranquil stone in a raging river. His touch, gentle but firm, stilled their restless shoulders. In his gaze, their fury found no reflection. Deynfif's eyes locked with Hirua's in a silent exchange.

"The key lies in personal resonance," his gaze steady, each word landing with the weight of a carved stone. "For some, like Einntyr, a well-honed mental image acts as a conduit, channeling power with the precision of a sculptor's compass." A smirk almost escaped his lips. "Others, perhaps like yourself, find their strength in the raw energy of an untamed core, sharpened to a warrior's edge by experience."

Deynfif cracked a true smile, lines crinkling around his freckled cheeks. A single, firm slap landed on Hirua's back. "Different paths, but the destination remains the same." His voice, once strained, now resonated with the warmth of a well-stoked fire. "Now, let's prepare our bounty for the feast. Eard awaits, and I suspect their appetites are as sharp as Hirua’s blade."

With a curt nod towards Einntyr, Hirua bent to the task. As he worked, a grudging respect simmered within him. Perhaps, he mused, a pinch of spice does enhance the flavor after all.

The sworn brothers wove fallen branches and ropes into a makeshift litter, each corner was tied to a large stone.

Einntyr's grin snapped shut. He whirled around, eyes scanning the clearing. His hand flew to his belt, fingers patting, then grasping at empty air. His normally bright cobalt irises shrank to pinpricks. We're doomed, he thought, a strangled sound escaped his throat, half gasp, half curse. "Whoa there,” he choked out, voice barely a whisper, “something's amiss!"

"We might have a bit of a snag!"