Realm of Thorns

The Tikbalang's Circle

The tikbalang stood towering before Joaquin, nearly seven feet tall, its muscled body gleaming in the dim light filtering through the canopy. Its thick, corded arms flexed subtly as it shifted its weight, the creature’s enormous biceps and chiseled torso exuding an almost casual strength. Joaquin’s eyes were drawn to its legs—long, powerful limbs that ended in cloven hooves. They scraped the ground softly, sending shivers up his spine with each subtle movement. The air around him felt dense, heavy with an unnatural stillness, as though the forest itself was holding its breath.

Joaquin swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. His legs felt like lead, but his heart pounded like a drum in his chest. He couldn’t move, pinned under the creature’s gaze—its yellow eyes glowing like embers in the suffocating darkness. It was as if those eyes could see right through him, peeling back every layer of his fear, his guilt, his deepest insecurities.

The tikbalang’s lips curled back slightly, revealing large, unnervingly human teeth. “Lost, are you?” it said, its voice a low rumble that vibrated through the air and into Joaquin’s bones. The creature’s words were laced with amusement, but there was an edge to it, like the gleam of a knife.

Joaquin’s mouth went dry, and he stammered, searching for words that refused to come. The tikbalang tilted its head, watching him intently, eyes widening with a kind of playful curiosity. “Hmm, no words for me?” it asked, stepping closer, its hooves crunching against the forest floor. “That’s alright. I prefer when they run.”

Something in the way it said “run” sent a jolt of terror through Joaquin’s body. Without thinking, he turned and sprinted, his legs moving as though possessed by the primal instinct to survive. Behind him, the tikbalang’s laughter boomed through the trees—a deep, rich sound that made the forest feel alive with the creature’s amusement. “It’s a game of tag, then, isn’t it?” it called after him, the sound of its hooves following close behind.

Joaquin ran faster than he had ever run in his life, dodging low-hanging branches and leaping over fallen logs. The sharp twigs and leaves scratched at his skin, but he barely noticed, the adrenaline surging through him like wildfire. His breaths came in ragged gasps, and the ground beneath his feet blurred as he pushed himself harder. In the chaos, he glimpsed a large rock with a strange blue flower glowing faintly atop it. For a moment, it struck him as odd—something so beautiful in the midst of his terror—but he had no time to think about it. He darted left, hoping to lose the tikbalang in the maze of trees.

The sound of hooves thundered through the forest, pounding in sync with Joaquin’s frantic heartbeat. His legs ached with each desperate stride, muscles screaming for relief as he pushed himself to the brink. The branches tore at his skin, and the uneven ground threatened to trip him with every step, but he didn’t dare slow down. The tikbalang’s heavy footsteps were a constant reminder of the danger lurking just behind him. His mind was consumed with one thought: Run.

His lungs burned, gasping for air that felt too thick, too heavy in the dense atmosphere of the forest. Sweat trickled down his face, stinging his eyes, but he blinked it away, refusing to stop. The eerie glow of the trees flashed by in a blur, their gnarled roots rising from the ground like claws reaching for his feet, as if even the forest wanted to trap him. His legs screamed in agony, every breath he drew felt like fire in his chest, but he kept going, fueled by sheer terror.

Then, abruptly, the sound of hooves behind him vanished. It was as if the earth itself had swallowed the noise, plunging the forest into an unnatural silence. Joaquin’s heart still pounded in his ears, but now, it was the only sound. His feet slowed against his will, his legs trembling with exhaustion, and he risked a glance over his shoulder.

Nothing.

The creature was gone. For the first time since the chase began, Joaquin allowed himself to stop. He doubled over, hands on his knees, his breath coming in heavy, ragged bursts. His lungs felt raw, like he’d been breathing in smoke, but there was no more running. Relief, like a cool wave washing over him, flooded his body, and for a brief moment, the grip of fear loosened. He was alive. He had escaped.

But the quiet was too thick, too absolute. It pressed down on him, filling the space where the sound of his own gasping breaths echoed. Joaquin straightened, wiping the sweat from his brow with a trembling hand, and squinted into the dense shadows of the forest. The wind whispered through the trees, brushing past him in soft gusts, stirring the leaves, but there was nothing else. No birds, no insects—just that eerie stillness. His senses, still on high alert, tingled with unease.

Did I lose it? he wondered, his mind racing as he strained to listen for any sign of the creature. His chest heaved as he gulped down air, every breath still heavy, still painful. But there was no sound. No movement. Maybe, just maybe, he had outrun it.

His heart rate slowed slightly, and for a split second, hope flickered in his chest.

Then, the softest rustle of leaves reached his ears, barely audible over his panting. Joaquin froze, his body going cold as dread trickled down his spine.

“Tired already?” The voice, smooth and mocking, sliced through the silence like a blade. “That didn’t last long.”

Joaquin’s blood turned to ice. He spun around, heart hammering once more, and there it was—the tikbalang, standing only a few feet away, its golden eyes gleaming with twisted delight. It was as though the creature had never even exerted itself, standing there with casual ease, its massive form illuminated by slivers of moonlight filtering through the trees.

The grin on its horse-like face widened, the wicked amusement in its eyes unmistakable. Joaquin’s mouth went dry. He staggered back, his legs shaking violently with a mix of fear and exhaustion, unable to comprehend how it had caught him so easily. The relief he had felt moments ago evaporated, replaced by sheer panic.

“You can’t outrun me,” the tikbalang said, stepping closer, the ground barely trembling beneath its hooves. Its voice, though smooth, was edged with malice.

Joaquin’s body wanted to move, but his legs were weak, trembling as though they could no longer support him. He felt trapped, as if the very forest was in league with the creature, and his mind screamed at him to run—but where could he go when the tikbalang seemed to be everywhere?

It leaned forward slightly, the smirk on its face deepening, as if relishing in Joaquin’s hopelessness. “Go on,” it said softly, the amusement in its tone chilling. “Try again.”

“H-H-How…?” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.

“You can’t run from me,” the tikbalang said, stepping closer. Its tone was teasing, almost affectionate in its cruelty. “No one ever does.”

With a strangled cry, Joaquin turned and ran again, his mind screaming at him to escape, even though deep down he knew it was useless. He sprinted through the forest, his heart pounding in his chest. But as he rounded a corner, his feet skidded to a halt. There, in front of him, was the same rock with the blue glowing flower, the one he had passed moments ago.

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. “No, no, no…”

He spun around, trying a different path. He ran faster, harder, the branches tearing at his clothes, the cold night air biting at his skin. But the forest twisted and turned in ways that didn’t make sense. Every path led him back to the same spot—back to the rock with the glowing flower. It was like the forest itself was working against him, mocking his every attempt to escape.

A movement in the shadows caught his eye. The tikbalang stood there, leaning casually against a tree, its arms crossed over its broad chest. It tilted its head, smiling at him like a cat watching a mouse. “I told you,” it said, its voice low and amused. “You can’t run from me.”

Joaquin’s breath caught in his throat. His mind spun in a desperate search for an escape, but the tikbalang’s laughter echoed in his ears, filling the forest with its sinister joy. The creature was toying with him, like a predator enjoying the thrill of the chase.

He ran again. He had no other choice. The tikbalang’s mocking voice trailed after him. “See you later, little one.”

Joaquin’s legs burned with exhaustion, his heart felt like it was about to burst, but still, he pushed himself forward. He couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t. Yet no matter how far he ran, how many twists and turns he took, the forest betrayed him, leading him in circles. He passed the glowing flower again, its blue light shimmering in the darkness like a cruel beacon.

Joaquin stumbled to a stop, gasping for air, tears of frustration welling in his eyes. “No! This can’t be happening!” he shouted into the night, his voice cracking with desperation.

He took off again, darting down another unfamiliar path, only to find himself face-to-face with the tikbalang once more. This time, the creature didn’t move. It simply stood there, its eyes gleaming in the darkness, its laughter now softer, almost pitying.

“Tired yet?” it asked, its voice smooth and menacing.

Joaquin was beyond words now, beyond rational thought. He bolted again, his feet carrying him toward a distant cave. His legs felt like they were on fire, his lungs screamed for air, but he plunged forward into the cave’s darkness, hoping it would offer him salvation.

Inside the cave, the air was cool and damp, the scent of moss and wet stone thick in his nostrils. Joaquin navigated through narrow passageways, his footsteps echoing in the silence. But when he finally emerged into a small clearing, his heart sank into the pit of his stomach.

There it was—the same rock with the glowing blue flower.

Joaquin fell to his knees, staring at the flower in disbelief. The tikbalang’s voice, a whisper in the wind, reached his ears.

“You can’t escape what’s already yours.”