They had stripped me of my weapons before I entered the Garden. I felt it was a bit unfair, but they mentioned it was a way to test my capabilities out in the wild. My rings, my guns, everything but the clothes on my back. Even that, they tried to regulate as well. Apparently, a leather jacket wasn’t customary for the Fiore to wear, and yet, when looking at those in the family, none of them wore the typical hunter attire.

I had been told that in the Evergarden, if something is hunting you, there really is no camouflage that can stop it. Apparently, the scent of some of these monsters is so keen it practically creates an outline of your body for them to detect. I had heard some Eternals had noses like that, where they could practically sense someone in the next room over. It was why they made such good law enforcement. I didn’t have those abilities. I understood I was at a disadvantage going in. My only biological perk through being a Devilkin was that I didn’t flinch at fire. That was cool if I was down in the Infernal, where fire is probably everything you see, but in the Evergarden, fire wasn’t typical. But attire, yes, nobody wore what was customary, and so, with enough complaining, they allowed me to at least come in with my jacket. The jacket itself wasn’t super important to me. I could do without the fashion, although it always paid to look good. What I cared for was what I had snuck into the jacket.

When I would ride at night sometimes, there were always weird guys approaching me, thinking we were buds because I rode a bike and they happened to as well. We weren’t clansmen, and yet that’s how it felt they aimed for us to be. Some of them would get touchy, and that was a big problem for me. One had taken a knife out on me, and it was only because I was faster than him that I was able to get him to the ground. It was that incident that made me more wary, more prepared. So the next time I took to the streets with my bike, I had sewn a pocket into the jacket right where my ribs were. That pocket contained a pistol, a small .22 that I hid, and I was surprised the Fiore didn’t detect. Maybe they did, and they decided to throw me a bone. Or maybe the hunters aren’t as good as they claim to be. Regardless, it was my only weapon. I had a full week to hunt a creature in the area, and yet, as soon as I touched down onto the soil of the Garden, it felt like I was going to find them much sooner than that. Or rather, they’d find me.

The area that I was dropped off in was a jungle biome. Tall trees, swinging creatures, lots of fruit that could kill. I recognized some of those fruits and collected them, ready to break them and maybe lather my bullets with them. It would make firing them more difficult if I got any of the liquid on the primer, but I had always been more careful than reckless. I placed a handful of those bright yellow fruits in my pockets and made my way to higher ground. The Evergarden was beautiful in the sense that it was probably the most dangerous place in all the realms, and yet it was so magnificent to look at that you’d forget that pretty quickly if you were down there.

As I walked, I couldn’t help but take in the beauty of it all. The smell of leaves was so intense yet so refreshing, the air was nice and pure, and the entire place just felt inviting. It didn’t feel like I was stepping into a graveyard, but I guess that’s how all people must have felt in their last moments in the Garden.

A thirty-minute trek got me to the highest hill in the area, one where I could make out Arjuna’s Arrow, the primary monument that acted like a sort of natural compass for any who understood the Evergarden. The arrow is quite literally an arrow, but far more massive than one I wager anyone has seen. It stands as tall as several skyscrapers stacked on top of each other, its head buried deep within what we call Arjuna’s Lake, probably some 400 feet deep. It was said that the arrow was fired at a demon, one with remarkable power and one that Arjuna seemed to have hated quite a bit. When fired, the impact created a crater so deep and so wide that mana had started to return from the sky like rain and fill the crater. Now, the arrow sits in the lake, most of it sticking out and pointing north based on where the frills of the arrow are in relation to you.

To me, I had been east of the arrow based on the frills, meaning that I was in predator territory. It was nice to know that the Fiore believed in me that much, that they’d so kindly put me in such a place. Though I wish they could have chosen a kinder spot.

The first night had been uneventful. I had found a cave deep within the jungle that used to house a Typhen Bear once upon a time. That family must have moved out years ago and left it quite concealed in case they ever returned. Good thing was they didn’t that night, and so I had a fire that I created after sacrificing the gunpowder of one of my .22s. I slept for four hours, then rose to hunt. Night was still very much in effect, and there was no better time to find a predator than when they stalked.

I moved freely, knowing that if something were to attack, it would first assess me, then stalk. Most of the predators that traveled at night in the Evergarden enjoyed the hunt, unlike the predators in the day that thrashed about and did so quite clumsily. These night terrors were fast, cunning, and intelligent. I understood that traveling so early in my test was rather insane, but I had gone in with the notion that I was either going to find my hunt within the first nights, or die in the second half of the week by one. Most initiates that I spoke to found their hunt on the third or fourth day, then took the rest of the time to create weapons or armor from their kill, leaving them with three days, typically, to do that. I wanted more. If I was going to kill something and use its body, I wanted time to cherish that kill.

I had been traversing the Garden for three hours when I first realized I was being stalked. At first, I would catch glimpses of a shadow moving around 70 yards away. An impossible distance for my peashooter, but one that could change in an instant if the creature decided to lunge. I made my way forward, progressively leading the beast into areas I knew were difficult for it to track me from afar. Tighter passages within rock formations and breaks in the trees would make it difficult for any creature to follow me, or so I believed. Every time I looked back, I could tell that the creature was maintaining the same distance, that even through all my efforts to divert it, even a little, nothing was successful. Most hunters would tell you that the creature would be about the same size as me then, one that could easily maneuver as I did, but I didn’t believe that. One thing that I noticed was the constant silence that would come whenever I moved forward. Clearly, the creatures in the jungle were not fearful of my presence, but certainly of my stalker. I had felt an absolute sense of fear, but that only reassured me that I was approaching my prize.

About a quarter mile ahead, there was going to be a clearing. I could see it from the uphill paths through clearings in the trees. If I knew it, so did the creature. It would be a matter of ten minutes before I hit it. By that time, if I was in the clearing, it would be far more difficult for me to escape. An area that is open provides no cover, no obstacles to climb, roll, or duck under. It was the perfect place for the creature to attack. I was unaware if the creature understood that I was aware of its presence. Maybe it had never seen my species, maybe it had, and we were easy prey. But one thing was clear, it was waiting for me to hit that clearing. I understood that a fight head-to-head with whatever this beast was would certainly resolve itself in my death. However, I was a mage. It was not. A frontal assault against a night terror almost always resulted in death, or so we were taught. It meant we needed to use everything to our advantage. The terrain, our tools, our armor, our weapons. My weapon at the time may have just been the little .22, but that didn’t mean I had no mana to amplify it.

I took out the pistol and prepared myself to cast a spell. Doing so would emit a light, and that would give away my intentions. Any deviation in my movement would certainly tell the creature I was onto it, so I remained steady as I moved. The air had been warm and I had been sweating in my jacket, probably adding to the scent I was emitting.

When the clearing was just within view, I took a moment to hide behind a tree I had just passed. From there I cast a spell, Jing Ying. The spell had been one I learned from reading a book in the Fiore library on one of my days off. I had practiced it constantly during my spellcasting classes. The spell translated to “Mirror Shadow” in Chinese, and from my body, a shadow continued walking. I stopped and began to roll, placing the damp soil on my body to better hide my scent. The creature would have known something was up as the scent was diminishing, however, with an open field, a breeze could explain the deviation. The shadow entered the field, and I remained still in the darkness of the soil. Footsteps approached, quiet and catlike. Leaves under the creature crunched only slightly, and even those with increased hearing would have had a difficult time making it out. It stood beside me for the first time, and as it did, all I could see was the black, shadowy fur passing by me like a ghost. It stopped, waited at the edge of the clearing, then made its first sound.

“Beehhinnndd Yyyouuu,” it hissed, speaking in plain Common. The words sent a chill up my back, and I realized what I was dealing with, a Morvain.

These creatures were blind and used their senses to track targets. They had been known to replicate the voices and language of the creatures they were stalking. Any that heard the call were then detectable to the creature, almost like death by sound. You hear it, you die. The creature turned its head and looked at me, hissing like a snake but preparing to lunge like a tiger. I rolled and got to my feet quickly, releasing the spell and preparing to cast a new one. The Morvain lunged, crashing into the tree where I had just hidden behind and smashing straight through it. The tree toppled over, causing different birds and avian life to flock and disturb the silence of battle. The Morvain looked around, uncertain where I had gone. Admittedly, I did not travel very far. I had only taken enough distance to cast a new spell, Orun. The spell ate a lot of the mana in my body, which I already didn’t have a large natural supply of. As I said the word, the Morvain sprinted, getting on its hind legs to swipe at where I had been. I had already ducked and rolled before its burst of speed. A second late and I would have been in pieces. The creature recovered from its attack and turned to bite at my leg. I moved quickly and heard the snapping of its jaws.

The pistol in my hand glowed a hot orange, a sight only I knew of considering all Morvain were blind. The creature took another swing before I was prepared to fire. That one had got my cheek and my right shoulder at the end of its pass. I bit down hard and gritted my teeth, turning with the motion of the swipe, then returning a bit of action of my own. The gun in my hand exploded forth a bullet more like a .50 cal than a .22. The bullet smashed into the creature’s chest and sent it a step back. It lunged again, understanding that its prey was now capable of harming it. It needed to end things quickly, and I wasn’t one to argue. I pushed myself out of the way, landing hard on some of the shards of wood that had snapped off when the creature smashed into the tree earlier. One of those shards had ended up in my leg right below my knee. I cried out in pain at that one and rose to a single knee to fire. The creature was already sprinting at me when I entered my firing stance, but I had already prepared my shot.

I could see the white of its jaws and fired, closing my eyes afterward, knowing damn well even if I hit it, a force moving at that speed was still going to find its place somewhere. The shot smashed into the Morvain’s skull, and I heard the whining hiss before feeling the crash of its entire weight on my body. It sent me back some 10 feet as it landed on top of me, crushing one of my ribs. I remember I just lay there, closing my eyes and watching the Garden stars above.

In the morning, I had a bird pecking on my horns, making its way down to my forehead. I figured it was trying to scavenge the Morvain but found a snack in me as well. I fired my pistol a handful of times, the cute snap of the .22 making the birds evacuate the area. For almost an hour, I wriggled my way from under the creature that must have weighed almost a ton, if not more. Its body heat had kept me warm throughout the night, and even in death the predator had provided me with life.

For the rest of my time in the Garden, I tended to my wounds and made all I could out of the Morvain. The studs in my jacket are teeth, the bone on my forearm is fastened from its shins, and the belt that doubles as a whip around my waist comes from its spine. It fed me, warmed me, and gave me life in a realm where everything aims to take.

I remember when I arrived through the portal, I wore this huge blanket I had made out of the creature’s dark pelt. It kept me warm and was the first thing I made. My instructor had walked over to me and saw that there was a hole where the bullet had struck the Morvain. She looked at me with a raised eyebrow, and I just gave a smile. Should’ve searched me.