Chapter Seven: The Spirit Hunter
579 Words
The woods of Theralen had never been silent—not truly. There were always the soft rustlings of leaves, the distant howl of wolves, the murmurs of the trees. But tonight, they held their breath.
The Spirit Hunter had returned.
Clad in black armor laced with bone, the rider moved like a shadow on horseback, his face hidden beneath a jagged mask shaped like a skull. The creature beneath him wasn’t a horse, not truly—it was a beast sewn from nightmare and smoke, hooves that left no prints and eyes that glowed like dying stars.
He rode alone, but the air around him bent with his presence. Spirits, once bold and wild, scattered into the trees. The curse had stirred in the palace. The Moon Oath had been performed.
And he had been waiting.
⸻
In the Palace…
Elira watched the skies from her balcony, unaware that her name had been whispered by something far older than any prince. She still felt raw from the ritual, her mind spinning with half-formed memories and impossible truths.
Kael had been silent since they returned. He didn’t need to say it—he had felt it too.
Something was coming.
A low horn blew from the western tower. Three short notes.
Kael’s door slammed open. He didn’t knock.
“Elira. Pack your things.”
She turned sharply. “Why? What’s happening?”
“He’s here.”
She didn’t need to ask who.
⸻
Beyond the Palace Gates…
The Spirit Hunter stood before the guards of Veyruin like a god carved from bone. He didn’t draw a weapon. He didn’t need to.
“I come for the girl,” he said, voice like ash and thunder.
“No one enters without permission from the King,” a captain replied, lifting his blade.
The Hunter raised a single hand.
The captain’s blade shattered. Then his body folded in half, boneless and limp. The others ran.
He did not pursue.
He simply walked through the gates, the palace itself groaning at his arrival.
⸻
Inside…
Elira and Kael moved through hidden corridors behind the throne room. Dust fell from the ceilings. Every torch flickered and died in their path.
“Who is he, Kael?” she demanded. “What does he want from me?”
Kael didn’t meet her eyes. “He was the one sent to collect me… the night I was born. When the curse was sealed. But he didn’t come alone that night.”
Elira froze. “He came for me, too.”
Kael nodded. “Your power is the balance to mine. The spirits marked you—then lost you. But now you’ve awakened your half of the curse.”
“Which means…”
“He’ll try to take you. Or worse—bind you to the shadow realm forever.”
A crash echoed down the corridor. Stone splintered. The walls moaned.
He was inside.
Kael grabbed her hand. “There’s only one place he won’t follow us. The Sanctum. But we’ll have to go through the Catacombs.”
Elira’s blood chilled. The Catacombs were beneath the palace—where only the cursed dead were buried. But she nodded.
They ran.
Behind them, the Spirit Hunter stopped at the corridor’s mouth. He lifted a silver pendant, carved in the shape of a crescent dagger.
“Elira,” he said softly, as if the name was sacred. “You cannot run from what you are.”
And then he followed.
- Writer
