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Dracoth

Hunter

P rincesa climbs from my back, taking her pleasant softness with her. She lets out a small, audible sigh—disappointment echoes through the bond between us. She grows more confident, more in tune with her nature—our glorious destiny.

But first comes the Draxxus hunter.

I spot him standing tall and proud upon his high branch, spear in hand, the bones of aurodons, hydraliths, and arrohawks lining the base of his perch. I stride toward him with Princesa in tow, making no attempt to hide. He already spotted us long ago. The warvisor donning his face leaves no doubt.

Still, the Virennix hunters didn’t dare stop me. Will this Draxxus hunter be any different? I’m no outlaw. By all rights, they should be bowing before me, the rightful War Chieftain. Soon, they will.

“Oh, I see him now,” Princesa says, shading her eyes as she peers up into the frozen canopy. “How the hell did he get all the way up there?”

She’s amusing with her inane questions, marveling at the simplest things.

“He climbed,” I reply, stating the obvious.

“No way,” she mutters in awe. “By himself?”

“Yes,” I say, eyes still fixed on the hunter. “The Draxxus live among the trees. They are decadent, surrounded by abundance.” My voice hardens. Clan Magaxus and Clan Draxxus have a fierce rivalry that goes back to a conflict before my time. I don’t hate them but see them for what they are—weak.

“You don’t say...” Princesa trails off, her gaze falling, likely plotting some fresh human madness.

“You’ve got that look again,” she says as I sense her eyes scrutinizing my face. “The ‘Mr. Frowny Face’ look. If you wait until we figure out these powers, I can help you,” she offers.

My eyes flick to hers in surprise, searching for some hidden barb or jest. But I find only sincere resolve in the depths of her mirror-like eyes.

There’s a flutter of respect and something else soaring in my chest—a thing once foreign and unknown, which now torments me constantly.

A softness, a need... desire. So abhorrent to my molten soul that every time I act upon it, I balk, almost retching.

How can Arawnoth bind us together yet fill me with revulsion that rejects such feelings?

“There is no need,” I grunt in answer, waving up at the Draxxus hunter, whose masked face follows us like a stalking venefex. He makes no move; his inaction speaks louder than any words. My fists clench in anticipation.

“If you say so,” Princesa mutters, frustration tingling at the edges of her voice. “Oh, look—he’s falling.” She gasps, pointing up at the hunter.

He’s not falling—he’s descending with deadly grace, moving through the enormous branches as if born and raised among these frosted trees. I sweep my arm, silently signaling Princesa to stand back. My blood stirs; the thrill of an impending fight sears my veins.

The hunter lands with a solid thud, armored boots crushing the frosted leaves beneath him. He straightens, standing tall with an air of pride, but he pales compared to me—as all do. Brave but foolish.

“You bar my path, hunter?” I challenge, gesturing toward his pathetic form.

“I do.” The hunter barks a brief laugh, as if this interruption is a trivial joke.

My frown deepens as he slides the warvisor from his face with a smooth, practiced motion, clipping it to his belt with theatrical flair.

This one plays the part of a warrior.

“Dracoth, I presume?”

Pride almost curls my lip into a smile at this stranger’s recognition. “You know of me, yet still defy me?” I ask, scrutinizing his every move, my body coiled for the fight.

“They say you bested three Draxxus warriors in Star City,” he remarks, running a hand through his long brown hair.

“Five,” I shoot back, correcting him.

“Five?” He raises his eyebrows, impressed but still smirking. “Well, then. It seems I must redeem the honor of my clan.” He titters, casually casting aside his long spear onto the frosty red grass.

“You invite only more shame, hunter.” I glare, cracking my knuckles as my blood simmers, every part of me ready for violence.

“Perhaps,” he concedes, shrugging with a smile that reeks of arrogance. “But I grow weary of hunting mere beasts.” He spreads his arms wide, pacing toward me with a cocky swagger. “Though, I must say, you’ve the look of an overgrown aurodon about you.”

Before I can respond, Princesa cuts in, drawing both our attention. “Can you hurry this up, Jungle Book ?” She cradles that loathsome cyloillar in her arms, her voice dripping with impatience. “Todd’s getting hungry.”

The hunter pauses, arching an eyebrow at the creature in her arms—the single black eye of Todd blinking lazily. His smirk returns, aimed at me this time.

“ Females ,” he mocks, and then, in a flash, he moves.

He’s faster than expected, darting forward in a rush of motion, barely a ripple among the fluttering ice. I lash out with a brutal frontal kick, aiming to cave in his fragile chest, but he pivots at the last moment, catching my leg under his arm.

The hunter grunts, his face flushed with effort, futilely trying to throw me off balance. I grimace, hopping closer to the fool, striking with the force of a meteorite.

My fist crashes into the vambraces of his arcweave armor as he desperately throws his arms up in defense. Unwise, for my bones are forged from the Peaks of Scarn, shaking with the fury that drives him through the air.

He skids across the frost-tipped grass, claws scraping the ground in a desperate attempt to slow his slide. I could end him now—leap upon him and split his skull into tiny pieces—but instead, I cross my arms, waiting.

To his honor, he springs back to his feet with a graceful flip.

He moves more like a dancer than a warrior.

“That was... awkward,” the hunter mutters, dusting off his shoulders. His faint smile falters, turning into a grimace as he inspects his vambraces, now warped by the imprint of my knuckles.

“Gods...” His sharp yellow eyes lock onto mine. “You truly are a beast.”

My heart swells with pride. “I’m the greatest of our kind—the War Chieftain,” I growl, my crimson eyes blazing with molten Rush, also roaring through my veins, yearning to be unleashed. But I hold it back.

This contest is beneath me.

“There is no War Chieftain, friend.” He adjusts his mangled vambraces, his yellow eyes glowing against the cold mist. “Only High Chieftain Krogoth.” He shifts back into a fighting stance, fists raised, his feet dancing lightly across the frozen ground.

Krogoth. His name haunts me ceaselessly!

A storm of rage bursts from my core, and I charge like a volcano erupting. The hunter’s face shifts to horror as he leaps back, but I’m on him in an instant, raining blows upon him with murderous intent.

My fists tear through the frigid air like molten plasma, each strike narrowly missing him as he weaves and ducks.

The smugness drains from his face—now there’s only focus and fear. He dodges with increasing desperation, retreating as I drive him back toward an enormous Draxxi tree. He has nowhere left to run.

I hurl a final, devastating punch meant to end him, but at the last second, he throws himself to the ground. My fist blasts through the tree with a deafening crack, splintering ancient wood—a monument to my rage.

Branches and ice fall like the tears denied to me—Krogoth seared such weakness from me long ago.

The hunter scrambles on the ground where he belongs, his uncertain fate etched into his frightened expression.

“Peace, warrior!” he pleads, arms held high.

Peace?

Where is my peace? When I must fight for the legacy that was stolen from me! The sneer twists my face as I grab the hunter and hurl him against the tree—the very tree that had been his sanctuary, now his headstone.

He hits the trunk with a sickening thud and crumples to the ground, a heap of shattered pride. Still, his yellow eyes snap to mine, his claws extending as if he could ever stop me. Pathetic. I stride toward him, fingers twitching, eager to snap his spine and add it to my belt.

“Didn’t Ignixis say you shouldn’t kill anyone?” Princesa interjects. Her voice sounds too soft in this world of roaring blood and seething anger. She steps forward, her absurdly small hand resting on my arm. “I mean... it’s obvious he’s no match for you.”

Her beauty, even now, is startling—sincere, stern, without her usual mocking glint. She’s right. Ignixis is right. Killing him would be a mistake.

Slowly, the flames of fury simmer down, the tightness in my muscles easing as the bloodlust retreats beneath the surface once more. I grunt, turning away from the pitiful creature.

“Come, Princesa.” I offer her my arm.

“My name’s not, Princesa,” she grumbles with a sigh. “It’s Lexie... L.E.X.I.E.”

I ignore her familiar complaint. Princesa pleases me more. She’ll grow to accept it, in time.

She approaches with a frown, expecting a response, but I simply study her—admiring her stunning beauty.

I always considered her the most attractive of the females, yet like a supernova, she shines brighter every day.

It twists something deep in my molten soul, a twisted knot of regret.

She radiates vibrancy, while I’m cursed with this maddening, impotent sickness that rages inside me.

“Fine, whatever,” she huffs, throwing her hands up in defeat. “Can you carry me for a bit?”

In a single fluid motion, I scoop her up. Her laughter is sweet, her small body settling into the crook of my arm as if she belongs there.

As I turn to leave, the Draxxus hunter stirs, his voice rasping.

“Wait...” he splutters, rising on unsteady legs. “Are you seeking the temple of Lanaisor?”

I suppress a grimace. Another gas-cloud wasting my time. But before I can leave, Princesa halts me by speaking.

“Yes, Jungle Book , we are,” she replies, her face brightening with a broad smile. “Do you know the way? That would be so helpful.”