If a monkey dies in the jungle, someone gets blamed. That’s just the math of it.
The old woman screamed like the world had cheated her. Maybe it had. Hard to tell with hags—everything sounds like betrayal when it comes out of their mouths.
We told her we didn’t do it.
Well… some of us told her.
Bowmore tried charm. I tried honesty. Turns out those two things aren’t the same, and neither one convinced her. Lori and Balgus managed to smooth things out a little—steady voices, reasonable words—but all it really bought us was confusion. She didn’t know if we were guilty or stupid. With us, it’s usually both.
MODMOS examined the body. Calm as always. Said the monkey died from a poisoned object. Even tried spinning a story around it, but the lie landed about as soft as a brick.
Lori offered a solution instead of an excuse—bring back a diamond, cast the spell, revive the monkey.
Nani Pupu liked the idea enough to tell us where to find one.
Then MODMOS did the math.
If we brought the monkey back… it would probably remember who killed it.
Truth has a funny way of showing up late to conversations like that.
So we did the only sensible thing—we sent Bowmore to tell her the truth. If you’re going to confess to a hag, you send the bard. Lori went with him to make sure the apology had a soul attached.
To everyone’s surprise, it worked.
She was furious. Sad too. But there’s something about honesty that even monsters respect. She told us the land itself is cursed—things rot fast here. Life, stone, memory… all of it sliding downhill.
If we couldn’t find a diamond, she gave us another option. A ruin. A place where a certain creature lived. Bring back a piece of it, she said, and she could use it to revive the monkey.
Lori hesitated. Wondered out loud if fixing our mistake was worth the trouble.
We went anyway.
Because sometimes the right thing to do is just the thing you already started.
On the way, Balgus had another idea—after we clean this mess up, maybe we infiltrate the cult. Learn what they know. Maybe even see if Jenesca can help us.
Plans are easy when you’re not dying yet.
We found the canoes Nani Pupu mentioned and followed the river for hours. The jungle gave way to something older. Bigger. The kind of place built for people who expect the world to look up at them.
Nangalore.
A ruin made for giants.
Too beautiful for comfort. Waterfalls cutting through old stone. Plants that didn’t belong here. Everything green and thriving in a way that felt… watched.
I didn’t like it.
We climbed toward the ruins. Lori took the faster route—flying ahead on that mop of hers.
That’s when she smelled it.
The best spice she’d ever encountered, she said later.
Turns out it wasn’t spice.
It was a man-trap.
The plant snapped shut and swallowed her whole.
I ran.
Rage hit before I reached it. Axe came down hard enough to remind the plant that eating clerics is a bad life choice. Balgus followed with magic. Bowmore finished the thing off with a flourish like he was ending a concert.
We cut Lori out before the plant had time to digest its mistake.
Once the adrenaline settled, we realized what we were standing in.
A garden.
Not just any garden—one full of exotic plants from places far beyond this jungle. The kind of place someone builds when they have power, patience… and a kingdom big enough to steal from the world.
Carved into the cliffside above the river were giant stone faces.
MODMOS crawled across the wall like gravity was a rumor and started studying the carvings. The writing turned out to be Giant. Lori read it aloud.
Four faces. Four stories.
To the north right—a regal giantess with a peaceful smile.
“And may the gods themselves marvel at this humble reflection of her beauty.”
Next to it, the same queen—this time stern.
“In this, the tenth year of her reign, may she govern forever in splendor.”
Further up, another face. Condescending. Judgmental.
“Worshiped by her people and by Thiru-taya… who loved—”
The word loved had been carved out.
Replaced with betrayed.
And finally, to the south left, a bemused expression carved into stone.
“This garden is dedicated to Zalkoré, queen of Omu and jewel of Xen’drik.”
A queen. A garden. A betrayal carved into history like a scar someone didn’t want forgotten.
We crossed the garden to explore the far side.
That’s when the ground started moving.
Yellow shapes lurched out of the foliage—bloated, corpse-colored things tethered to long vine-like tentacles disappearing back into the plants. Zombies on leashes, pulled by something hungry hiding in the leaves.
MODMOS struck first. Quiet as a rumor. Blade flashing between ribs before the dead things even realized they had company.
I went for the vine controlling them.
Missed.
Twice.
That’s when the rage came back.
Balgus rolled a flaming sphere into the mess, lighting the garden up like someone had decided plants needed to learn fear.
And the garden… answered.
