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I groaned, blinked heavily through dust coated eyelashes, and coughed weakly. I was still under the cabinet door, my lungs having difficulty expanding between the cabinet and the rock floor below me that I was fortunate to be acquainted with. Had I been knocked unconscious for long?

The shelves dug into my shoulder blades, my spine, my thighs, at equal intervals of discomfort and pain. The damn thing was so heavy, it was all I could do to wriggle out from under it, each iota of movement an infinite source of pain. The wood scraped across my skin, scratching, leaving splinters, and bruises that would be colorful in the morning. My body protested every inch, but I couldn’t stay under that cabinet any longer. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been knocked out. What if Zaavi was still here? I paused in my escape, the cabinet’s weight pressing on me.

No, I would die if I stayed under this stupid piece of furniture. Zaavi would just have to be long gone. I would be if I’d just been freed from a century long stint in a magical prison. I gritted my teeth and pulled myself forward, muscles aching and screaming against the effort. Scrolls around me were tattered and torn, some completely disintegrated. A part of me felt such pain for the history that was lost, being destroyed in my hands as I inched out from under the cabinet, but there was no way I’d choose those pieces of ink and paper over my own life. There was more at stake here.

Finally, I’d stretched out far enough that I could see sunlight.

Sunlight?

I was in a cave deep within the Hunter’s mansion, or at least, I had been. How could I be seeing sunlight? I pushed the rest of the way through, now that my torso was freed, the remaining portion of my escape from the cabinet relatively easy. I knelt, taking in the pure chaos around me. What had once been a cavern that had never seen the sun’s rays, was now a dust filled pile of rubble, heavy boulders from the underground cavern leading to what looked like an even bigger crater a few feet from where I had been hiding.

I gulped. The crater was empty, just a several feet deep hole with nothing inside but scorch marks. No signs of survivors. I looked around, really noticing what I was seeing for the first time.

The entire compound was nothing but ruins and wreckage. If the force of the explosion hadn’t cleared the entire area, then the cavern would have collapsed on itself and I would’ve been completely stuck. I glanced back at my cabinet, scorched and nearly destroyed, but somehow, still mostly intact. It had saved my life, I reckoned. If I hadn’t been knocked into it, I would’ve met the same fate as the rest of the compound. The force of whatever Zaavi had to done to make that crater – because it had to be him – had set into motion a ripple of destruction that had echoed out through the entire building.

My mother and the entire elder council had been in that crater.

Panicked, I stumbled upwards to a stand, my stiff limbs hindering my progress. I brushed off the dust with dusty hands, with little to no success. I narrowed my eyes and coughed. The crater was huge and exactly where the room where the elder council had met. There was no sign of the elder council or my mother, none at all. They would have been thrust into the air with the explosion, I figured, but that didn’t mean they didn’t survive. With shaky steps, I carefully explored the rim of the crater, teetering on precariously placed debris so that I could peer over the edge.

It was nothing but dirt and a few pieces of wreckage. A spare piece of smoking stone, the redness of the heat fading but still present in the rock, a few glinting shards of broken glass, and what looked to be the remains of a scroll were all that I could see in the burnt soil. I squinted closer and leaned forward. How would a piece of paper have survived when nothing else did?

The debris gave way, and I tumbled into the pit, rolling, slamming my arms into my head, my shins knocking against each other and the hard ground. Loose pebbles and dirt crammed into my skin. I sighed, brushing away the rocks and dirt and with more dirt as I tried to stand again. Everything hurt; I was sure I had bruises upon bruises and had just added more with my most recent act of elegant poise.

I looked up to see the piece of paper was almost within reach, now. It was smoking too, the edges crisped black, though the body of it looked untouched. It smelled horrible, though, like how it might smell if you’d singed your eyebrows on a candle. Maybe the paper was made of fibers and fabric. I reached towards it, my fingers hesitant to touch. Why had this scroll survived? How?

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Curiosity won and I grabbed the scroll, burning my palm in the process. With instant regret, I dropped it to the ground at my feet to favor my palm, pressing it against my clothes. When the momentary pain had abated, I examined my palm, noting minimal burns, nothing more than some reddened skin. Carefully, I reached towards the scroll once more. I had to know what it said. It was the only thing left of the Hunter’s Guild.

The ink was perfectly clear on the body of the scroll, undamaged, just as the scroll had mostly been. If that wasn’t astounding enough, what it said certainly took the cake. I read the paragraph and read it again. Then another time, just to be sure I read it correctly.

The scroll was a partially complete agreement between Zaavi the Cursed and the Hunter’s Guild; a promise to free him if Zaavi would wipe out the rest of demon kind, his own followers included. But it was only signed by the Guild, each of the thirteen council member’s names written in perfect detail, preserved in disturbing quality on the parchment. Zaavi’s signature was nowhere to be found. This was another magical vow, a piece of binding magic that would force the two parties to abide by its words. But since Zaavi hadn’t signed it, it wasn’t complete, and he wasn’t beholden to its power. The remnant magic behind the council’s signatures must have been enough to keep the paper in one piece, albeit slightly burnt.

It must have been a great risk for the council to raise him, even with proper bindings. Maybe a rune had failed, allowing him to wipe out the entire group before signing. I sat back on my haunches, the impact of what I’d just read echoing through my head.

My mother had to be dead, a victim of her own arrogance. She and the council thought she could destroy all of demons where our ancestors had failed all those centuries ago. She – and the rest of the council – had really thought they could strike a deal with Zaavi the Cursed; the whole reason the Hunter’s Guild was formed. I tried to reach deep and probe into my feelings; surely, I had to feel some sort of melancholy about this? But all I could sense was a numbness, a touch of anger, and a bit of pity. Maybe even regret.

But there was too much to sort through now. What now?

I settled down into a cross legged position, the singed scroll haphazardly tossed aside. I should probably keep it, I thought, as I glanced at it through my peripheral vision. With a sigh I shoved into a side pocket, my hands glancing off of the scroll I’d stuffed in there before. I’ll read that one later, too. My mind was overwhelmed with processing what had just happened, consumed with the consequences of being the only surviving Hunter. If I could even claim that.

But wait, I was thinking too far ahead. Zaavi had been released, was now free upon the human realm and was now probably wreaking havoc who knew where upon innocents. My eyes widened. If I’d been imprisoned by my rival nemesis for centuries, the first thing I would do is try to enact my revenge. Zaavi had probably been planning it the entirety of his imprisonment; I imagine he didn’t have much else to do. I couldn’t get to Hazuzu to warn him, but Zaavi probably couldn’t get to him either… I tried to think hard, to figure out what Zaavi might do. What would I do if I were him? I furrowed my brows and threw my head into my hands, leaning forward and supporting my elbows on my knees. As I slid my fingers from my forehead to my chin, I realized something.

Callie had to be in danger. She would be much easier to find and get to than Hazuzu, and she would be the perfect bait to lure him in. I had to find her, to warn her, and through her, get to Hazuzu. Death and destruction were imminent, and we had to be ready.

I stood shakily, the exhaustion filling my bones. But my will power was stronger. I would survive, and I would make sure Callie did too. Last I’d heard, Callie was headed towards her own old home, Queen Selissa’s palace. I brushed the dust off again, more of a habit and ineffective subconscious action, I braced myself, preparing for the climb out of the crater. I patted my pocket to make sure both scrolls were still there – Callie would want to see them, I was sure – and began to walk towards the side of the crater, ready to climb. I’d made the trek to the castle once before, and I would do it again.

This time, though, I didn’t have the luxury of taking my time. An idea, a hope, struck me, and as I climbed, it gave me the power to push forward. Though the main building had obviously been destroyed, perhaps the stables still stood. They were detached from the compound, with a pasture in between. Maybe, just maybe, a horse would still be there. I could ride to the castle and cut the travel time in half.

My fingers clawed at the edge of the crater, my left hand grasping around a splintered beam to haul myself up. I grit my teeth and used all of my strength, despite the splinters cutting into my hand. Heaving, I threw myself out of the crater, pausing to take in a few breaths, then continued on. I refused to look back into that hell.

I looked up towards the vague direction of the stables and pasture, and though the fences were torn and sizzling, it looked as if the stables were left largely untouched. A chunk of smoldering wood and stone had plummeted on the fence next to it, however, though it had somehow missed the stables itself. I made my way towards it, tiptoeing in and around debris and wreckage, avoiding active flames and ignoring what may or may not be blackened body parts leftover from the explosion. It was all I could do to go forward, so that’s what I did.

I was lucky and one of the horses was still left in the stable. She was visibly spooked still, her eyes wide and her ears flattened back against her head. The beautiful painted mare was the fastest horse the Guild had. Of course, she was also the only horse they had, just as I was now the only Demon Hunter. We were now the best the Guild had to offer.

Carefully, I calmed her as best as I could, jumped atop her back, and rode off towards the road. Hoofbeats pounded into the dirt road as the sun began to set behind us, the smoking hole of what used to be my childhood fading into the distance.