05. The Hunters
1228 Words
CENTURIES AGO...
A thick mist shrouded the entire castle, gripping the air with an unforgiving cold. Yet, flames raged around it—devouring even the trees and foliage in the forest. It was as if heat and frost were warring, each trying to claim dominion over a world steeped in terror.
A woman plummeted from the highest tower.
Bloodied and battered, she struggled to rise, only to be hurled back by an invisible force. A powerful pull yanked her backward, slamming her against the frozen trunk of an ancient tree. Gasping, she barely had time to react before a figure materialized before her—its hands tightening mercilessly around her throat.
Its eyes blazed with fury, burning into her like fire meeting ice.
But the woman only laughed, her voice laced with both defiance and madness, as if pain had long ceased to touch her.
"There is nothing you can do now..." she taunted. "Your death is sealed. You are cursed!"
The prince clenched his jaw, his grip tightening. "Who are you, wretched woman?"
A slow, cruel smile curled her lips. But her eyes, sharp and gleaming with malice, betrayed her hatred as the true form of the creature before her began to emerge—monstrous, fearsome.
So this is it, she thought. The beast she had long awaited.
"You need not know my name."
With a flick of her wrist, she sent the prince hurtling back—flung miles away in an instant. Before he could rise again, she had already frozen time.
"You will not die today," she whispered, voice like a venomous lullaby. "But I curse you to an eternity of suffering!"
Then, she vanished into the darkness.
_________________________
Xiandra's body stopped rolling as she slammed into the base of a tree.
She must have reached the bottom of the ravine.
Towering trees surrounded her, their dense leaves forming a thick canopy above. The only light that reached her came from the pale glow of the moon, flickering weakly through the gaps.
She gasped for breath, every inhale sending sharp pain through her lungs. She tried to push herself up, but her limbs refused to cooperate. Her body felt paralyzed, as though the earth itself held her down.
A pained groan escaped her lips as she gritted her teeth and yanked out the arrows lodged in her shoulder and thigh.
Fresh tears welled in her eyes. She curled up, wrapping her arms around her knees, and let the sobs wrack her body.
Was it fear? Was it despair? Was it the agony of her wounds?
It was all of it—crashing down on her like an unforgiving tide.
Her body trembled violently, chilled to the bone. But she was still breathing. She was still alive.
Just like that woman before she was slain.
Then, it hit her—her pursuers.
She forced herself to stand.
Pain lanced through her legs, but she wasted no time. She had to get away. She didn't know where she was or where she should go—all that mattered was putting as much distance as possible between her and the hunters.
Xiandra trudged through the tall grass, each step a battle against exhaustion. The sharp blades of grass cut into her bare legs, and the cold air bit into her open wounds.
The forest was silent. Only the rustling of her movements and her ragged breathing filled the emptiness.
Then, she stopped.
The trees around her were strange. Their bark gleamed unnaturally under the moonlight, a stark contrast against the darkness.
Pale trees.
She knew these trees.
"According to the elders, their kin are hidden deep within the woods… but no one has ever confirmed it."
Cerene’s words echoed in her mind.
But now, she had proof. The legends were real.
Dread crawled up her spine as she scanned her surroundings.
Danger.
Beyond the three men hunting her, was there something else lurking in the shadows?
At the edge of the woods, a riverbank unfolded before her.
Under the moon’s glow, the landscape revealed itself—an ethereal beauty that seemed almost unreal. The waterfall cascaded from the towering cliffs, its roaring descent weaving into the melody of the rushing river. The air shimmered as if dusted with silver, and even the withered leaves dancing in the wind seemed enchanted.
It was mesmerizing. A fantasy.
Unconsciously, Xiandra stepped closer to the river’s edge. The crystalline waters mirrored her reflection—bruised, bloodied, and marred with scratches from the branches and leaves that had lashed against her face.
Then, a sound.
Rustling.
Her breath hitched.
Something—no, someone—was running. More than one.
Her pursuers.
Her gaze darted toward the waterfall. A way out.
Without hesitation, she plunged into the depths.
The icy water seized her like a beast sinking its fangs into her flesh, its coldness burning her wounds. She had no time to dwell on the pain. She could not afford to be caught.
"Have you found her?"
The masked man’s voice was low, menacing.
His men shook their heads. “No, Leader. But I’m certain she’s still here. She could be dying as we speak.”
"But, Leader... what if she is immortal?"
The man smirked. “Then the poison on my arrow will see to it that she is not."
He scanned the area, eyes sharp as a hawk’s. “Check the riverbank. She cannot have gotten far.”
“Yes, Leader.” His men immediately dispersed.
He remained still, surveying the land, his grip tightening around his sword.
The symbol of an eagle engraved on their weapons gleamed under the moonlight. The mark of their faction—the Hunters of the Dark.
Their sworn duty: to eliminate the darkness that preyed upon humankind. To purge the cursed.
They did not kill the innocent. That was their code.
But those who violated their law?
They would be punished.
"As night falls, stay within your home. Those like you must not bear witness to death in the dark…"
The leader recited the law as he surveyed the shadows.
Perhaps the girl was listening.
Without another word, he turned, following his men toward the riverbank.
"There’s nothing here, Leader," one of them reported.
"Let’s go. The night grows deep. This place is dangerous, even for us."
And with that, they vanished into the darkness.
_________________________
Xiandra burst out of the water, gasping for air.
Cold and trembling, she scrambled toward the jagged rocks behind the waterfall—a small hollow that could serve as a temporary shelter. She collapsed, curling into herself, arms wrapped tightly around her body.
Her mind reeled.
Too many mysteries. Too many unanswered questions. The old man and the book that vanished, the woman, the three hunters who sought to end her life—what else lay hidden in Citta Miasto?
She shuddered, overwhelmed.
What had she gotten herself into?
Her life was no longer her own. With every moment, she was being drawn deeper into the unknown.
And with each step forward, she only moved closer to her doom.
Tears welled up, spilling freely.
"Oh, God..." she whispered, barely audible. "Help me..."
Pain flared through her body. She pressed a trembling hand to her wounds.
She hadn't even tended to them yet.
She bit her lip, swallowing the sobs that threatened to break free.
She would not break.
Not yet.
- Writer
