Chapter 2: Hunter and Prey

I am a soul that does not believe in revealing everything about myself; simply, I take the route of humility because I truly believe it is one of the greatest strengths of man. So, when I woke up in my cot, seeing a paper resting on the floor that reads, “Write two truths and one lie,” I feel perplexed--once again.

There are so many truths to pick from, which ones do I wish to reveal to the kosyii?

As I slowly pick up the paper, trying to think of the best truths and lies to pick from my life, I reminisce my first time going on a hunting troop when I was fourteen. I had just proclaimed to my Shaman that I wished to pursue alchemy, and it was only my fifth day of training in the field. There are two other pursuits one may choose from alchemy, shaman and medic. Medics are those who go along with the hunting troops and the battlers to be ready for anyone who may be injured, while a Shaman will stay with the tribe unless we are in battle. As part of my training, I was sent on a hunting troop under the supervision of a senior medic to tend to any injuries. No one had been injured that day I went, but what always stood out to me was the sensations one feels when hunting prey.

Your heart is pounding like crazy, everyone is so deliberate and silent in their pace, and the prey you set your eyes on ... it is in between oblivious and afraid. The snow deer have instinct, they know the feeling of eyes watching their move, yet when one is hidden they can never discern the specifics. They take steps, looking around and twitching their ears so frequently, but it is all in vain. The moment they step into the trap, their cries of fear mean nothing as the spear quickly punctures through their neck.

Thinking about the fear in the creature’s eyes in its last moments, reminded me of a moment of life-threatening danger I’d shared with my partner, Lucio, being on the run in the snow when I was sucked into The Arcane Realm. Lucio, for all the good in his heart, made many dark choices in his past. I will never forget the fear that surged through me when The Devil confronted Lucio.

Count Lucio, just before he was burned alive, made a pact with The Devil; in exchange for a cure to the Red Plague pandemic ravaging every part of the world, Lucio would allow The Devil to use his body as a vessel to rule Vesuvia. Unlimited power and immortality running amok is the fate the country would face had Lucio managed to get caught the first time, but he was burned alive before anything could be done.

Now, having been revived from the dead and roaming The Devil’s Realm, the tall, dark-horned demonic goat was out to collect his dues. The looming, ominous figure of The Devil grinning so eagerly as scarlet and ebony mist-like tendrils swirl out from his palm, aiming straight for Lucio is an image that still remains vivid to this day. I remember how they manage to grab him, muffling his cries as he struggles and resists against The Devil overriding his soul. At that moment, I do not think; all I can remember is a slight blue flash as I managed to conjure up a strong enough shield to protect Lucio and make The Devil stop. Lucio may have made a world-ending mistake, but his heart was pure--he did not deserve this fate.

The Arcane god broke through it with ease, but the cloud of smoke that came from the explosion of clashing energies gave us enough cover to take off into a sprint.

“You mortals love running from the inevitable. I’ll find you soon, Count Lucio.”

The words wouldn’t leave my conscience as we trudged through the hail and snow, not daring to look behind our shoulders. At one point, I finally got answers from Lucio about the deal he committed to and had my first argument with him, nearly in tears as I could not understand how one could be so reckless and selfish to not think of the repercussions dabbling with such evil could have. During our desperate attempt to flee to find a different portal in the Arcane Realm, I remember the feeling of being watched being so invasive.

Perhaps it was my own mind, or perhaps it was the insidious magic of The Devil trying to find us, but every bone in my body told me we were being tailed, and we would die. No place was safe, no resting stop was safe, and no magic or force could save us from this. Pure fear consuming one’s soul to the point of a frantic insanity, that is what prey must feel; a terrifying limbo between knowing enough but not enough as one attempts to flee the sneaking reaches of losing a life. Even if we managed to find another portal and escape in the end, the feeling of terror and panic is something that has never left me.

I realize, now, what I wish to write.

I take the scribe tool off the nearby table, rest the blank paper in my lap, and begin filling it out:

1. I once used a full-body transformation on myself in secret.

2. I saved my partner from being possessed by The Devil.

3. I have gone on a hunting troop before.

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A/N:

kosyii - the plural form of “kosya,” which is the honorific to refer to a stranger when their name is not known.

“scribe tool” is just a transliteration of describing a pen, pencil, etc. Xaranian language doesn’t have a specific word to discern either.

Word Count: 928