A refreshing breeze swept across the battlefield, mixing with the scent of blood and sweat. The sun was slowly drifting lower in the sky, no longer beating down on me as intensely, but I still had a thin layer of sweat covering my skin. The adrenaline rush that had kept our little hunting party alive during the battle was now fading, leaving behind a deep exhaustion in its wake.
I found myself on the outskirts of the group of hunters, not entirely sure of what I was supposed to be doing. After they had killed all the Cackling Shadows, the hunters had just dropped where they stood, tending to their wounds or catching their breath. That left me with nothing to do and a feeling of uselessness, so I decided to be somewhat helpful and keep watch on the perimeter, scanning for any signs that might suggest the more ballsy of the local wildlife was feeling brave enough to take a shot at us.
It probably wasn’t necessary. The only real danger around had been the Cackling Shadows, and they were all dead now. But it gave me something to do and made me feel like I was contributing.
The bow hunter was attending to Rilla’s wounds. I made a mental note to myself to learn his name soon. I couldn’t just keep calling him ‘bow hunter.’ The younger hunter was swaddled in bandages, wincing now and then, but his injuries didn’t look too bad. He was lucky; the Cackling Shadow that he’d faced was faster and had a longer reach than him. I wasn’t sure he would make it until the end. Still, he wouldn’t be out of action for long.
Kazrik calmly moved among the hunters, checking on each of them to make sure none were too badly injured from the fight. Most had survived unscathed, aside from Rilla’s cuts and a few scrapes on the smaller hunter who’d helped Kazrik in taking down the two juvenile Cackling Shadows.
As Kazrik made his rounds, offering words of encouragement and praise, his eyes kept drifting over to Zypha. She was performing some kind of ritual above the carcass of the adult Cackling Shadow, her body moving in a strange and fluid dance. I couldn’t help but watch as well, trying to figure out what I was seeing. The codex was silent as I watched, leaving me to just guess at its purpose.
It reminded me a little of the dance she’d performed with the elder back in the village, but I still couldn’t fully grasp its meaning. Was it a religious ceremony? A way to honor the kills of the hunters? Kazrik’s expression mirrored my curiosity, but also held an air of respect and watchfulness, as if ensuring that nothing would interrupt her work.
Zypha’s fluid movements were just as graceful as I remembered, each step and gesture deliberate. As she moved, her arms created intricate patterns in the air. There was a…gravity to her dance. That’s the best way I can explain it. It was something ancient and powerful that I could feel and sense but couldn’t understand.
Kazrik eventually made his way over to me, his eyes still flicking back to Zypha every now and then as she continued dancing. We stood there in silence for a moment, both of us entranced by her movements.
“You wanted to help Rilla earlier,” he muttered, breaking the silence. “It’s good you didn’t.”
“Zypha held me back.”
“That’s good. If you’d run in, if you’d tried to help him fight the Laughing One, you would have robbed Rilla of his chance to earn his echo. He would not have thanked you.”
I furrowed my brow, remembering how Rilla had looked like he needed help during the hunt. I didn’t want to just stand by while he struggled and risked getting hurt or killed. But before I could argue, Kazrik interjected.
“This was his chance to prove himself. If anyone had interfered, he would have been shamed and lost his opportunity for growth.”
“The elder talked a bit about death echoes,” I said, “but I’m still trying to wrap my head around them. How do you earn one?”
Kazrik turned to me slightly, giving me a sidelong glance. “You cannot. Not because of any fault on your part, your body simply wouldn’t survive. For the hunters, death echoes are the essence of the creatures we kill. The strongest of them, at least,” he explained, gesturing towards the discarded bodies of the two juvenile Cackling Shadows. They’d been unceremoniously pushed to the side. Their bodies weren’t worth much – stringy meat, matted fur, nothing valuable except a few fangs on of the hunters had already pulled out. The rest was left to rot.
“The echoes hold a portion of the creature’s power, its essence,” Kazrik continued. “When a hunter takes an echo, they’re absorbing that power. It becomes part of them. It gives them strength, sharpens their senses, and sometimes even grants them new abilities.”
As he spoke, Kazrik lifted his right hand, and the same inky blackness I’d seen before began to ripple under his skin. It swirled up his arm and spread across his torso.
“After my first successful hunt, a shaman gifted me with this echo from a Cablo Beetle. Tough, armored creature. Its echo lets me create my own protective armor just beneath my skin.”
“So, the…Laughing One echo. It’ll give abilities? Like an audial attack or something?”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” shrugged Kazrik. “The echoes occasionally gift talents and abilities. It might just give the hunter who gets it claws. Or boost their agility. We won’t know until a hunter bonds with it.”
“But…I thought that was Rilla’s echo.”
“No. Rilla earned the right to an echo,” Kazrik corrected, gesturing towards Zypha who was still engrossed in her ritual. “The shamans collect the echoes and strengthen them. Right now, the Laughing One’s echo is still weak. Fragile. It needs to be nourished in the body of a shaman. Zypha will forge it, shape it, and then pass it to another hunter when the time is right.”
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Would you take it?” I asked, intrigued.
“No. Hunters can only hold one. Maybe two, depending on the echo. Any more than that, and the echoes will tear the body apart from the inside. The power’s too much for any one hunter to handle. Some of the others,” he gestured toward the hunters lounging nearby, “have claimed two, but they’re weaker echoes. A hunter has to be careful about which echoes they take in.”
Kazrik and I fell into a hushed silence, watching Zypha as she danced. The rhythm of her movements was mesmerizing and we both lost track of time as we were focused entirely on the ritual. The sun began to sink lower in the sky, casting long shadows that stretched across the ridge where we stood. The rest of the hunting party joined us, all watching with the same fascination I felt. My breath seemed to slow in time with Zypha’s, and even the faint rustling of the wind through the trees grew quieter.
Then, an inky darkness started to collect in the body of the Cackling Shadow. It started from its limbs, like dark tendrils of smoke, gradually pulling inward and gathering around the spot where Rilla’s seax has struck. A chill ran down my spin as the darkness thickened, forming into a tangible mass. With each step of her dance, Zypha seemed to draw the darkness closer and closer to the surface.
Suddenly, she bent down and jabbed her fingers into the Cackling Shadow’s chest like talons, right where Rilla had delivered the killing blow. For a moment, it was like the world itself held its breath. A hush fell over the hunters, and even the wind around us grew still.
When Zypha straightened, she was holding a small, pulsating orb of darkness, like a clump of gnats that swirled together. A death echo. The way it moved and shifted in Zypha’s hand creeped me out.
In a quick movement, Zypha drew a knife from her waist. The blade flashed in the fading light as she ran it across the back of her forearm, slicing a clean and deliberate cut in her skin. Blood began to well up, but before it could spill, she pressed the echo against the wound.
I couldn’t look away as the inky blackness flowed from the echo into her arm. It seemed into her skin, spreading like a stain and darkening her flesh as it moved. The blackness coated her arm like a glove, swirling and shifting just beneath the surface before slowly, almost reluctantly, dissipating. The wound on her arm closed, leaving only a faint mark to show where the cut had been, and the darkness faded entirely until it looked like nothing had happened.
&&&&&
We set up a new camp, not too far from the ridge where we’d fought the Cackling Shadows. Rilla was still recovering from his injuries and Zypha seemed fatigued after completing her ritual. Kazrik still insisted that we move away from the battlefield for safety, but shortly after starting our hike he was calling for a break. We were only about a mile away from where we’d fought.
The hunters started setting up camp, their movements betraying their exhaustion. They laid out simple mats and blankets that had been rolled up and carried from the village. As night started to fall, a small fire was sparked to life in the center of the camp, its smoke rising into the darkening sky. The sun was just now starting to set and the planet’s twin moons weren’t shining as brightly as I’d seen them before.
As the hunters set up camp, one of them went off to a nearby spring to refill the water skins. The others started cooking the food they’d brought with them, and the scent of spices and meat soon filled the air, making my mouth water. After the adrenaline rush of the hunt and the long day of marching, everyone seemed to be in a quiet mood.
Zypha was resting on her own mat, her eyes closed in deep meditation while Rilla sat beside her, still recovering from his injuries but breathing evenly. They were off to the side, separate from the rest of us yet still part of our group. Even though they weren’t interacting with anyone else, the other hunters would occasionally glance over at them, checking to make sure they were safe.
I found myself doing the same thing, watching Zypha in particular. I couldn’t shake the curiosity that was gnawing at me as I watched her meditate. I’d seen the inky blackness move under her skin back in the village, signifying that she had a death echo just like Kazrik. And now, she’d absorbed another one from the Cackling Shadow that Rilla had killed. According to Kazrik, hunters were only able to hold one or two echoes at a time. So how was Zypha able to hold more?
I shifted closer to Kazrik, speaking quietly so as not to disturb everyone going about their duties in camp. “I got a question. You said hunters can only hold one or two echoes at a time. But Zypha had one back in the village, and now another from…the Laughing One. Shouldn’t we be worried about her? Can she handle more than one echo?”
“She is a shaman,” he stated matter-of-factly. When he realized I didn’t understand what he meant, he let out a sigh and followed my gaze towards Zypha before turning back to me. “In our village, most people can only handle one echo. Their bodies aren’t built for more than that. But there are a few who can handle more than one.”
He paused, seeming to consider how much information to share with me.
“They’re noticed at a young age – spotted when they’re still children. Those who can hold multiple echoes in their bodies are trained in the ways of the shaman. It’s not something a hunter can learn; it’s either in you, or it isn’t.”
“So, how many echoes does Zypha have?”
Kazrik didn’t respond immediately, but instead gave me a simple look. It wasn’t hostile, but it told me everything I needed to know without a single word. It would be rude of me to ask.
The camp had settled into a peaceful rhythm as the night wore on. Zypha and Rilla were still in meditation, quiet and unmoving as the rest of the hunters gathered around the flickering fire. We all sat down to share a meal, exchanging murmured conversations. And every now and then, our eyes would drift over to where Zypha and Rilla sat.
It was easy to get lost in the normalcy of it. Until Zypha finally stirred.
She stood slowly, gracefully, drawing everyone’s attention in the camp. The hunters were all still, their meals forgotten as they watched her. I couldn’t tear my eyes away either. There was something about her movements that demanded my attention.
She started a ritual, a familiar dance that held a sense of urgency to it. It was shorter than what I remembered from the village and from her time in front of the Cackling Shadow. There was more urgency to it. Mor focus. The inky blackness of a death echo started gathering under his skin again, swirling around her body and collecting in her hand.
Her dance brought her close to Rilla, who remained kneeling on the ground. Without hesitation and before I could react, she drew out a long knife and sliced the blade across Rilla’s chest, cutting into him with a smooth, deliberate motion.
My body jerked upright, my first instinct to rush over and help stop the bleeding. “What the hell—”
But Kazrik’s grip on my shoulder stopped me. “Stay,” he commanded, his voice ringing with authority.
I hesitated, unable to take my eyes off the scene in front of me. Zypha took a blade to her own hand, and blood flowed freely from the wound. Every instinct in me screamed at me to intervene, but Kazrik wouldn’t let go and his gaze never wavered.
Zypha pressed her bloodied hand against the wound she’d made on Rilla, and the inky blackness leaked from her fingers into his skin. It slithered like liquid smoke, seeping deep beneath his flesh. In response, Rilla let out a gut-wrenching scream as his body convulsed in pain. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he crumpled to the ground, clutching at his chest. His face was contorted in agony as he let out another scream.
I balled my hands into fists, desperate to do something – anything – but Kazrik’s hand remained at my shoulder, holding me back. It felt like it lasted forever, Rilla writhing in agony on the ground, his breath ragged. His screams filled the campsite as he clutched at his chest.
And then, just like that, it was over.
Rilla’s breaths slowed and the tension that had wracked his body eased as he slowly pushed himself to his knees. He was covered in a sheen of sweat and his chest was bare, but the wound that had been there just moments ago was already healing itself, the flesh knitting itself back together as if nothing had happened.
Zypha calmly wrapped her hand in a bandage and sat down once more, returning to her meditation without uttering a single word.
Kazrik finally let go of my shoulder, clapping me on the back with a grin that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “He’s a hunter now,” he said quietly, pride evidence in his voice.
He walked over to Rilla with a grin on his face and patted the younger hunter on the back and added a few muttered words of congratulations. Rilla was still pale and shaking, but as soon as Kazrik came over and lifted him up, his weak smile turned into a full-blown grin as he let out a relieved laugh. The rest of the hunters gave their congratulations and well wishes before they went back to eating their meals, the quiet conversations around the campfire a little happier and more carefree.
I turned my attention back to Zypha who hadn’t joined in the celebrations, still seated on her mat, calm and quiet. I was about to go to check up on her when Kazrik intercepted me. “Let her rest. She’ll be fine in the morning. We’ll head out at the first sign of light, and she’ll be ready by then.”