Deep in the jungle were many things.
You could find exotic plants, strange animals, born in the jungle and kept there all their lives. You could find trees so wide it would take five men to get halfway around.
You wouldn't expect to find a small hut with two people inside. Sleeping peacefully, with mosquito nets, you wouldn't expect to see something akin to a treasure chest in the corner. You would never even think of there being a two scars wrapped around the boys ankle.
The two scars made the boy special. And yet they were a curse, a reminder. Something was coming for the boy. Coming through the vines and the trees and the foliage. The boy was destined to die that night.
The door shook. The older man occupying the other hammock opened his eyes and pulled a long, sleek curved dagger from under his thin pillow and approached the door slowly. He looked out and saw nothing, just the trees shaking in the wind. The boy sat up and moved aside the net, his dark skin barely distinguishable from the darkness that filled the hut.
The man at the door turned around and smiled faintly at the teenager, not suspecting a thing. The boy's expression turned from relief to shocked horror when a shining white sword came through the door, entered the man's back, and protruded from the man's chest like cutting through warm butter before being yanked out.
"Run," He croaked, before slumping onto the floor. The boy needed no telling. He jumped up from the hammock and burst through the back wall, leaping through before the dust had settled and running with all his muscle and speed towards the ravine far away.
The makeshift house vanished in a rumble and a dust cloud and the boy didn't look back, pushing his body for all the speed it would give him. He could avoid the enemy chasing him, for a little while at least, but he couldn't avoid the dark thoughts that skewered his determination. They were stupid to think the isolation of the jungle would protect him. There was nobody around to help him, to hear his panicked pants. He was doomed, his protector dead. He heard a far-off scream.
The song 'Welcome to the Jungle' flashed through his brain. He didn't appreciate the irony.
He reached the wide ravine that would provide, he hoped, safety on the other side. It was an almost impossible jump. He heard the unearthly presence behind him coming ever closer. He sprinted back, gathered all his nerves, ran like Hell was at his heels, and jumped.
He was airborne for just a couple seconds, landing on the other side hard on the knees. He jumped up and prepared to keep running, away from the danger.
His plans died and his determination left him when a large hand wrapped itself around his throat and pulled him towards the owner of it. A large male humanoid was grinning, sharklike, down at him, and held the sword that had killed his protector. The boy would have gasped with fear if he could.
"The legacies live. They will find each other, and when they do, they will destroy you," He manages as his last words.
The evil being laughs mockingly and the boys doom comes streaking towards him as fast as the blade can deliver.
IT'S GONNA BRING YOU DOWN