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And worse, Ruin would target this realm. Guilt gnawed at my insides, even though sooner or later, I knew he’d find Mist of Cinder, as he’d been hunting for it for a long time. In his glory days as God of Ruin, he hadn’t needed to replenish himself with Earth magic, and Mist of Cinder hadn’t been separated from the mortal realm back then.

I never asked too much and never thought I could have a future, as I understood I was living on borrowed time. But eight years of freedom was too short, and I hadn’t really lived until I came to Mist of Cinder.

It’d only been a week since I came here, and now it was going to be taken away from me.

Wrath rained down on me.

I wouldn’t allow it. I wouldn’t allow my father to destroy me again.

I’d fight with everything I had to stay in Mist of Cinder, the little haven I’d just found.

I would strike first.

Let’s go hunt! Sy hissed.

The thrill of the hunt coursed through our veins, pushing the icy fear to the edge of our consciousness.

I shrugged off the servant uniform and put on a jacket and leather pants that I’d stolen from one of the shops. I inserted Deathsong into the strap on my left boot, climbed out of the window, jumped to the balcony below, then a branch of a tree, and landed in a crouch on the ground.

I darted between the cherry trees and shot out of the backyard of the vampire house, heading northwest, where I felt the faint tug of the Shriekers’ foul signature.

They called me. They taunted me. They got used to hunting me and never thought that I’d hunt them back.

I zoomed past the woods, the courtyard, and BattleStar training field and kept moving north. Under the brilliant sun, I stuck to the shade, avoiding small groups while siphoning a pinch of magic from the students to shield myself from their sight.

Luckily, none of the prince heirs were around to detect my shenanigans.

It’d be bad news for me to bump into any of them, as they were powerful enough to see through my glamour.

Fae called it glamour, as it was part of their natural magic. Mages had to use potions or weave spells from the surrounding elements to cloak themselves. I achieved my kind of glamour by siphoning a tiny drop of magic from supernaturals around me, just enough for everyone to ignore me and not enough to damage them.

This was one hell of a trick I’d taught myself after I came to this realm and watched others do magic in classes.

I bet, since heat steamed from the ground, the princes were napping or fucking. After residing in Mist of Cinder for only a week, I’d found that the supernaturals fucked a lot more than humans ever did. Sy was giddy at the prospect, but our tight schedule had kept her from going out to have fun, and I’d forbidden her from screwing everyone here like it was open season and fucking up our chances of keeping a low profile.

Yet I knew I couldn’t keep her locked away for long. She’d need to feed soon.

I bit my lip. We’d brainstorm as to how it should get done later.

After running for nearly two miles, I reached the north edge of the campus. Houses and buildings stretched thinner, with a few uninhabited cabins scattered on the slope. At the far end of the green field, a dark forest and rolling hills loomed.

This part was like the wild west, unclaimed. The region on the other side of the dark forest was the shifters’ territory.

As I raced down the slope, foul magic bearing the Shriekers’ signature carried in the wind. I sniffed the air in distaste, a battle plan forming in my head. After I’d escaped my father, none of his agents that had encountered me had lived to tell the tale and report back to him about my current magical and fighting ability.

I’d become a monster hunter.

During eight years on the run, I hadn’t hidden like a mouse in a hole. I’d used every opportunity to equip myself, to learn, and to better myself in every way. Due to my bloodline, I learned a lot faster than anyone else. I absorbed knowledge like siphoning magic, with a single zealous, desperate purpose—one day, I’d beat and vanquish my father, the ancient evil god.

I paused for a second. I felt only one Shrieker in the dark forest. It was luring me here. It thought that it could trap me. But it offered me no small amount of comfort that there wasn’t a horde breaking through the Veil to come after me.

Usually, the scouts ran ahead. But a scout couldn’t have penetrated the Veil. My lone stalker was a powerful female, probably the rank of a captain. It had underestimated me because of its power grade, and thus it bore the ambition of capturing “the lost princess” single-handed and dumping me at the feet of my father. The reward would be its alone.

I marched toward the entry of the dark forest; the stench of the Shrieker grew stronger.

A sign whipped against the bark of an enormous black maple in the wind: Underhill! Enter At Your Own Peril!

Sounds dangerous, Sy purred.