Chapter 17
Elara's heart stuttered to a halt, jolted back to life, and then stopped once more, all in the span of a second.
Their gazes locked. It wasn't the deep color of the Hunter's eyes, nor the fiery ring of amber that framed his irises that stole her breath—it was the cold, hard promise they held.
A beast lying in wait.
Before she could summon her scattered wits, he was striding toward her, each step exuding raw, untamed power.
The blood-orange fire played a treacherous game with the twisted horns of his mask. He was a tempest embodied in human form, moving as if the flames were a mirage that bent to his will.
Elara sprang to her feet, heart pounding like it might burst through her chest as she grabbed Yoni's lifeless body.
Wake up, dammit, wake up.
Elara clenched her teeth and hooked her arms under his, hauling him up despite the weight threatening to buckle her knees. She dragged him back inch by agonizing inch—but with every step, the Hunter closed in.
Her breath hitched, coming fast and ragged. There was no escape, no hidden path out of this nightmare.
She turned to face him, resolve hardening as words formed and fell away.
The air went icy. Shadows—darker than a moonless night—bled across the moss, advancing without sound. No rustle of leaves, no snap of twigs. Only silence, and the screaming dissonance in her mind.
Mother above.
A gasp tore from Elara as shadows shot forward, chaining her ankles and yanking her hard to the ground. Yoni crumpled beside her. She dragged him close on instinct, her heart hammering.
The shadows writhed, thickening, twisting into something almost human—and utterly wrong. A mockery of life.
Moonlight caught on elongated fangs, carving a cruel smile across its sallow skin.
Cold sweat slid down Elara’s spine as it growled, the sound a low vibration in the still air. Its eyes were empty as they fixed on her, nostrils flaring as it scented the night. “Tuatha,” it hissed, the word dripping with malice.
“She’s with me.”
The Hunter’s voice cut through the tension like a blade—calm, commanding—right behind her. Elara’s heart leapt into her throat.
“Inform your master that what was lost has been reclaimed.”
But the creatures gaze never left hers. “Do uafás1,” it whispered, voice slithering around the words like poison, the corners of its mouth curling in a twisted smile, “tá sé níos milse... cé chomh aisteach.1”
The Hunter’s presence closed in behind her, a subtle shift in the air that prickled her skin.
The beast’s attention wavered, its head tilting, elongated neck moving with serpentine fluidity.
Its gaze lingered on the Hunter, eyes gleaming like broken glass.
Then, with the smoothness of mist gliding over a cold lake, it melded back into the shadows, disappearing into the dense forest.
Elara's breath rushed out in a shaky exhale.
“Are you injured?”
The Hunter circled to her front, and she shivered, as if physically responding to his words. He must have mistaken her trembling for a confirmation, because after a beat, he descended to her level, his tall silhouette folding into a crouch.
He extended his hand, and she shrank back.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
It was less of a comfort and more of a command, leaving no room for a reply. His mask hid everything except the narrow slits of his eyes, but this close, Elara could see the crease of them—the dark lashes and even darker gaze fixed on her.
Beside her, Yoni groaned, pulling their attention. His eyelids fluttered, his arms lifting to cradle his head.
He’s alive.
Relief surged through her.
“Hallowed,” the Hunter said, reaching out again. As his arm extended toward her, she noticed something odd—his hands were bare.
In every encounter she could remember, he’d worn gloves.
Now she found herself staring. His hands were unexpectedly refined—broad-palmed, long-fingered, the warm doe-brown of his skin marked by scars, scratches, and ground-in dirt.
But it was the iron ring on his middle finger that caught her breath, set with crystals for all four elements.
Her eyes snapped to his.
Impossible. Every caster she knew was bound to a single element—if any at all. She’d seen aspirants struggle for years to master even one, failing again and again to form a bond. The idea of him, bound to all four, shattered every rule she had ever learned. How was that even possible?
“Elara!”
Her name cut through the air. Elara spun to see Dario bursting from the underbrush, eyes locked on her. He dismounted in one smooth motion, his usually sun-kissed skin pale in the dawn light.
His gaze flicked between her and the Hunter as he advanced, smoke curling around his ankles. When he stopped, his attention fixed on the Hunter, chin lifting. “Release Elara to me,” he said, “and I’ll ensure her safe return to the Sanct.”
Slowly, the Hunter rose to his full height. “You've failed your duty, guard. The Lord Sovereign entrusted the High Priest and his men with one job—keep the Hallowed safe. And yet, here we are.”
“My duty,” Dario replied evenly, “is to Elara first and foremost. Mistakes were made, that's true, but I am here to correct them.”
The Hunter snorted. “The Hallowed isn't some prize for you to restore your tarnished honor. Consider yourself fortunate that I claimed her before one of Osin's shades could. If they had, you’d be dealing with far worse than just a blow to your pride.”
Shades? Was that what it was? The word spun through Elara’s mind, dredging up half-remembered pages and sketches from the archives, bits and pieces of lore she’d studied long ago. But nothing matched...
Dario’s face drained of color, a visible reaction that gave her a flicker of satisfaction as she stood.
“I am not a possession to be handed over. I belong to no one.” It wasn’t entirely true, but she wanted it to be.
She’d tasted freedom—just a flicker—but she wasn’t ready to give it up.
Elara fixed Dario with a fierce glare, then turned to the Hunter, her gaze cold and unyielding.
He studied her through the flickering firelight, and for a brief second, his usually stark, steel-black eyes softened, the hard edges blurring as if touched by a whisper of light. “Maybe so,” he said, “but in this world, everyone is bound to someone, willingly or not.”
A shiver rippled down Elara’s spine, the faint ring of amber in his eyes flaring briefly, like the final spark of a dying ember. But just as quickly, it was gone. Snuffed out as Yoni lunged from below and drove a knife deep into the Hunter’s heel.