Hunter policy #09231 (Redacted):

Any cadet that returns from an official Hunt without a slain monster must be executed.

We were scattered. We were exhausted. We had no plan. All of the excitement and joy we felt turned to ash as yet another Epic-tiered beast decided we needed to die.

I seriously hate this forest.

I waited with my friends, unable to breathe properly in the face of this magnificent, yet terrifying, creature. It sniffed the air a few times, its one good eye glaring each one of us down in a surprisingly unhurried fashion. A light breeze wafted through my braided hair, carrying with it the stench of blood and death. Small wisps of gray dust flaked off of the carcass of the wyvern. It struck me as odd how quickly the creature began to decay, but I let that thought dissipate as the Zengo moved.

Or, rather, it stumbled. Two of its knees buckled under its weight. Yipping, it backed away, crawling like a stray dog back into the shadows. Before it left our sight, though, the creature barked, and it was like Azuris’ ‘overtone’ but layered over each other a dozen times. A shiver ran down my spine, and I could’ve sworn that it aura-scanned us. The tearing sound echoed through the clearing a moment before it disappeared. I whirled, careful to check every angle of attack.

Nothing.

The Zengo had fled. There was less joy in the victory, primarily because it didn’t feel like one.

“We need to get out of here. Other creatures will come for this corpse,” Azuris surmised. He waved for us to follow him, and waited until we were all falling into line. I saw him glance back at the wyvern that he stood next to and lay a hand on its scales. He whispered a few words in his native language so softly I could barely hear them. I didn’t understand a lick of it, but it rang with melancholy.

We headed out of the clearing and marched onward. From what I could tell via the brief glimpses of sun that remained in the sky, we were now moving parallel with the length of the second fold’s circumference. We moved southwest, careful to avoid any more prowling monsters. The sun set and Azuris finally called us to a halt. Though my shoulders were grateful for the relief from my pack, my mind was too wound up to relax. That Zengo was still out there, and I couldn’t shake the feeling it had marked us somehow. I had never heard of a monster capable of aura-scanning, but it had clearly done something like that.

“Let’s make camp. Lysandra, can you form a ward for us? Scent and sight would be best, but I wouldn’t be opposed to an auditory ward as well.” Azuris request was met with a silent dip of her chin, and she got to work. She pulled out several small stones, each charged with enough power to fuel our ramshackle wards for a month or so depending on how we used them. The sight of the oblong batteries sent a wave of nostalgia through me. They reminded me of the countless times my parents asked me or Kaelin to replace them in our house’s stores.

I watched her work, my mind elsewhere. It was strange to see such a dignified and polished elf stoop onto the ground and draw markings with a large knife. Still, I was grateful that at least one of us had a knack for the art. Despite my countless hours reading over wardcrafting in the pursuit of my brother’s interests, my skills ended at the theory. Lizzy, however, seemed to truly get them. She moved with simple yet elegant motions, drawing the ancient language into the uneven ground. When she was done, She dug out little trenches for the batteries. With a final stroke that connected all of the circular lines together, a shimmer of magic danced around our campsite into a well-sized dome.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I held.

We would be safe. For now.

“Gwynneth, what is your plan with that Wyvern scale? You only have, what, thirty four, thirty five hours left?” Elio inquired in a cautiously neutral tone. I swiveled my head toward the dwarf where she applied a whetstone against her tomahawks. She considered his question seriously, and I remembered all at once what Elio was getting at.

“You’re not seriously going to leave us, right?” I asked before logic had its way in my heart. My voice shook worse than I wanted.

“She must get it back, or that entire fight will have been for nothing,” Azuris replied more harshly than I expected. “Her death must matter.” I stared at him, confusion overriding my desperation.

“Her?” I asked. He winced at his admission, but then looked away and continued to work on getting our tents raised. I scoffed and was about to turn when he answered.

“She was a young sandstone wyvern, barely older than three or four years.”

I spluttered, shock and a bit of shame creeping in at his revelation.

“I will leave come first light,” Gwyn said, interrupting our conversation. She didn’t turn away from her calm and rhythmic movements, but I saw the tension in her shoulders. I sighed, defeated.

“Alright. Just—be safe out there, okay? If you die, I’ll kill you.” Gywn glanced up then and saw my cheeky, if a bit forced, grin. The smallest tug at the edges of her lips was victory enough for me, even if I hated everything about this accursed arrangement. Without her, our fighting power would be drastically reduced, and we all knew it.

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

“You deserve it, Gwyn,” I added before I started to walk away. Several minutes passed, and the awkward silence shifted into one that was a bit more comfortable, if tenuous.

“Thea, can you go gather firewood?” Azuris asked, now midtask with setting up a safe place for the campfire. He glanced up at me from where his knees were getting soaked in the loose soil of this forest. Something flashed across his vision, and a weird sensation warmed my gut at the sight of him like that. His fingernails were coated in dirt, yet there was a raw beauty about him that made me feel…

“Right! Yes!” I said a bit too loudly. The others turned at my outburst, and so I rushed out of the warded zone, careful to not ruin Lizzy’s hard work. The blush that bloomed across my cheeks was embarrassing enough. No need to add ‘ruining the wards that would keep us alive’ to that list. Outside of the ward, I looked back at our camp and grunted with my admiration at the elf’s job. If I didn’t know any better, this looked like any other part of the forest. No sound, sight, or smells emanated from our location. A creature would have to unwittingly walk straight through our campsite to even know that we were out here.

I took a few steps farther away, but then a horrifying idea came to me. Quickly, I pulled out my old hunting knife and grimaced at the small blotches of blood that lingered on the blade. Guilt coiled in my intestines until it was hard to breathe.

I’m a murderer.

The thought made me want to puke. Still, I swallowed the bile that rose to my throat and used the sharp edge to cut a horizontal line into a nearby tree. I resheathed my weapon and studied the area one last time before I set off to my task. I seriously hoped the ever-present danger of the second fold would be enough to keep my mind off of all that happened, but it wasn’t. Flashes of the battles that happened one after the other haunted my mind every time I lost focus. The bloodbath at the beginning of the Hunt. Cassius slowly losing the inexorable fight of the Shardclaw’s wrath. Gavin screaming at me. The wyvern as it roared in horror at its demise.

The Zengo.

They slammed into my thoughts until I was convinced my heart would give out. There would be no rest for me that night. It was all I could do not to find a quiet nook and curl up to cry for the next nine years. Instead, like some enthralled servant, I methodically combed the forest for dead branches and twigs. My boots were soaked by the time my arms were full, the rainfall from the previous night before this all started still clinging to the leaves and grass of the forest.

Seven hells, it hasn’t even been a day yet. We had another sixteen days of this. Sixteen days of danger, death, and killing. My grip dissipated and I hurled what remained in my stomach across the ground. My hand reached for support but found nothing. Hands on my knees, I retched until I felt dehydration’s hollow touch on my throat. A part of me pushed the foul liquid out of me in some vain hope that it would take my fears and shame with it.

It didn’t.

Coughing and hacking, I wiped my lip with the hem of my tunic and stood up to my full height. My back was sore and my mind was hazy with exhaustion. The taste of warm salt licked at the edge of my lips. I tasted it with my dry tongue and realized that I had started crying at some point. I took in a deep breath and slowly gathered the firewood I collected. At least, I started to, but quickly ditched the pile, as it had been the unfortunate target of my stomach’s past meals.

“Skräg it all,” I whispered hoarsely and resumed my unsteady trek through the forest. As I moved, the sun’s light grew dimmer and dimmer until I needed to squint slightly to study the ground ahead of me. Still, I pressed forward, disconcerted by the progressive lack of dead branches on the ground. What I gathered before could hardly be classified as impressive, but this was getting ridiculous. I wiped my lips again to get the phantom taste of bile from off of them, and squatted down to pick up another small twig.

It didn’t budge. I pulled harder. Still, nothing. I began to curse at it. It started out quiet but grew as the persistent little bugger refused to budge. I began to yell, all of my pent up aggression and misery focalizing on this narrow stick.

“GIVE UP, YOU SKRÄGGING PIECE OF SHITE!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. I yanked it out a few inches, and doubled down on my efforts. Furious at its continued resistance, I conjured both of my gauntlets and pulled with all of my magically enhanced strength. It finally gave, and the long twig burst forth from the ground, taking huge clumps of dirt with it. But more than dirt was attached to the stick. Wet sap the hue of burnt mustard oozed off of the thin branch.

A deep groan echoed through the grove of trees where I stood as more of the branch was unearthed with my final heave. It laced around the ground for several yards and more clumps of dirt and yellow sap burst from the ground. The groan was joined by several others, and I quickly identified the source of the ancient creaking and bone-jarring noise.

It was the trees.

Roots snapped up from the loosened soil like vipers. I jumped back, my meager stockpile of wood forgotten once more as I made a run for it. A wiry limb from a tree ahead of me slashed at my face, leaving a thin but excruciating cut across my cheekbone. I stumbled and fell to the dirt as yet another root made claim to one of my ankles. It writhed and tightened around the joint until I felt something pop slightly under the pressure. Terror flooded my body and I did the only thing I could think of. I jabbed the root with my left gauntlet and released the poison that it contained. It recoiled at the sudden invasion of foreign energy within its ichor and I managed to pull my restrained ankle out.

Pain shot through my leg, and I crawled along the ground until my vision cleared of the red that gathered there. Behind me, the tree began to shiver and moan in wild undulations. Leaves fell by the dozens, and I slowly got to my feet, careful not to overdo the pressure on my strained ankle.

What is it with me and ankles? I demanded of the heavens.

When I was far enough away, I gave into my morbid curiosity and turned. Six trees, all of them nearly identical in size, were half-frozen in crystal. Their bark slowly transformed before my eyes. The sight was as horrifying as it was mesmerizing. They were alive; I could see that now. But now, in death, they became ornate pillars of jewels so detailed it was like Zadalk himself crafted them. For some reason, I felt responsible to watch until their final branch at the apex of their reach transfigured into crystal. The sun was gone by now, and it was the uncomfortable realization my friends might’ve gone searching for me that finally got my legs moving again.

I slowly retraced my steps, the cuts I put in the trees along my route now feeling sacrilegious somehow. Sure enough, I heard voices ahead. They were urgent but soft, likely to ensure they didn’t attract any attention. I smiled at the thought of Lizzy creeping through the forest floor in the night, trying her best to resemble a tracker. I was about to call out to them and put an end to their search when a gurgled scream was cut off abruptly. I crouched instinctively, careful not to stir any of the nearby bushes as I crept forward.

Golden armor caught the soft illumination of a portable everglow lamp. ‘Glowtorches,’ I thought they were called. Then I caught sight of the breastplate’s owner.

Prince James.