Page 49 of The Huntmaster

Inside sat the creature from the woods.

It was a Vakra—I knew it the moment I saw the translucent, sickly grey skin and the spindly, spider-like limbs. He was curled in a ball, shivering violently, looking less like the monster of Sora’s nightmares and more like a discarded, broken toy.

"Star-woman," he rasped.

I froze, my foot hovering over the damp floor. My heart nearly stopped. The voice was thin, like dry leaves skittering on stone, but the words were unmistakable. It was English. A fractured, phonetic version of my own tongue.

"You..." I breathed, my voice barely a whisper in the gloom. "How do you know my language? I haven't even spoken to you yet."

The Vakra snapped his head up, his milk-white eyes widening until they seemed to take up half his face. He scrambled back into the furthest corner of the cage, his blackened claws twitching against the wood. He didn't seem hollow as Sora had described. He seemed... lonely. Terrified.

"We... have others," he whispered, his voice rattling in his narrow chest. "In the deep. Fallen stars. Humans. We hear. We learn. We watch the light."

The implication hit me, and my stomach dropped. I'm not alone. Humans in the Vakra nests? My mind raced through the possibilities of other survivors, but I couldn't dwell on it. Not yet anyway. I saw his leg—the gash was deep, weeping black, oily fluid that stained the floor of his cage. It was an angry wound that looked infected.

I should have turned back. I should have run. Instead, I found myself stepping into the light.

"Hey, easy," I said, holding my hands out where he could see them. "I’m not going to hurt you. I saw your leg... I can try and help you with it, if you let me. I have things that can stop the pain."

He tilted his head, his nostrils flaring as he caught my scent. He didn't look at my face; he looked at my hair. In this pale, fungal light, the golden strands must have looked like spun fire to a creature of the dark.

"What is your name?" I asked softly, kneeling a few feet from the bars.

"Skraal-vark-thun," he clicked, a series of harsh, guttural sounds that felt designed to grate against the ear. It was a name meant for a warrior, far too heavy and sharp for the fragile, shivering thing in front of me.

"That’s... a lot," I murmured, offering a small, shaky smile. "Can I call you Sky? It's a bit easier for me to say. Is that okay?"

He repeated the name—"Sky"—with a clicking lilt, his posture relaxing just a fraction. He was wary, his eyes darting to my hands, but the raw, predatory fear was being replaced by a burgeoning, desperate curiosity. He was a child of the dark, and I was something bright and impossible.

"Sky," he whispered, his claws stilling. "You... help?"

"I'll try," I said, reaching for the small pouch at my waist. "But we have to be quiet. If the hunters find me here⁠—"

Suddenly, muffled footsteps echoed down the main corridor. These weren't the heavy thuds of the guards. These were the deliberate, silent strikes of a predator. I heard the sharp, resonant clicks of Alu'un's speech—angry, authoritative, and vibrating with an intensity that made the chamber air feel thick.

Kaelen.

"Hide!" Sky hissed, his fear returning tenfold as he pressed himself against the back of the cage.

I didn't think. I scrambled behind a thick, protruding root pillar in the shadows, pressing my back against the cold, damp wood and holding my breath until my lungs burned.

From my hiding spot, I saw him enter. Kaelen's bare feet hit the stone floor with a soft, leathery slap that carried more weight than any boot ever could. He walked into the centre of the room, his gold markings a low, ominous simmer against his skin. He didn't look settled. His shoulders were hunched, and his chest heaved with a tension that made him look like a coiled spring ready to snap.

He didn't go to the cage immediately. He stood in the centre of the room, his head tilting slowly, his nostrils flaring as he tasted the air, and my lungs forgot how to work.

My heart stopped. He wasn't looking at the prisoner. He was looking at the shadows. He was looking towards me.

Shit.

Chapter 33

Kaelen-Thul

The root-cages were supposed to provide a different kind of focus. I needed the clinical detachment of a Master, the cold logic required to map out the movements of a parasitic enemy. The Vakra fledgling was a variable—a source of information that should have been my primary concern.

But the moment my feet touched the damp floor of the subterranean chamber, the atmosphere shifted.

The air down here usually tasted of mineral-rich earth and the slow, heavy decay of ancient sap. Now, it was pierced by something entirely alien to the deep roots—a sharp, sweet clarity that smelled of sunlight and rain. It was the scent of the woman who should have been safely tucked away in the upper canopy.