Beneath the golden canopy of the ancient jungle, seven girls stood in a semicircle, their eyes fixed on the moss-covered stone at the center of the clearing. LIBBY, the boldest of the group, stepped forward first, brushing her auburn hair behind her ear as she crouched near the strange figure carved into the stone—an odd, wide-eyed monkey perched as if frozen mid-leap.
LILY, quiet and observant, traced the edge of the engraving with her fingertip. “It’s not just art,” she murmured. “It’s a warning.”
KATRINA, ever skeptical, folded her arms. “A warning? It’s a monkey on a rock. Looks more like jungle graffiti.”
But KENDTA, who had studied old stories passed down through her grandmother, recognized the image immediately. “It’s the Monkey Guardian,” she said. “A spirit said to protect something sacred. No one who’s tried to take the treasure it guards has returned.”
MILA knelt beside LIBBY, eyes gleaming with fascination. “What kind of treasure?”
“Legend says it’s not gold or gems,” SURIE chimed in, brushing a vine aside. “But something more powerful. A piece of knowledge… or a key to a hidden world.”
ANNDA stood back from the group, sensing something beneath her feet. She knelt and pressed her hand to the earth. “There’s something buried under this stone.”
As if responding to her touch, the jungle hushed. Even the wind seemed to pause. Then, with a low rumble, the stone shifted. Dust flew as the engraved monkey glowed faintly, its eyes shimmering with pale light. A circular hatch emerged, and slowly opened to reveal a staircase descending into darkness.
Libby stood, heart pounding. “We’re doing this. Together.”
The seven girls looked at each other, a mix of thrill and fear passing between them. Each had a different reason for being there: Libby craved adventure, Lily sought meaning, Katrina wanted to prove the legends wrong. Kendta followed the voice of her ancestors, Mila longed to discover something bigger than herself, Surie had seen visions in her dreams, and Annda simply knew this was fate.
As they descended the stairs, torchlight flickering along stone walls etched with more monkey carvings, they realized they were part of something ancient. The deeper they went, the more the world above faded—until at the final step, they reached a chamber glowing with blue fire. In its center stood a stone pedestal, and on it, a small obsidian monkey statue.
It was alive.
Its eyes blinked slowly, and the girls froze.
“You have awakened the Guardian,” a voice echoed through the chamber, neither male nor female. “Only one may take the trial. Only one shall be marked.”
They looked at each other, unsure who would step forward—until Libby did.
“Whatever happens,” she whispered, “we face it together.”
And so, the seven began their journey beneath the stone—the Monkey on Stone marking the beginning of a story that would test their courage, loyalty, and the strength of their bond.
The jungle would remember their names.
