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.Princesapleases 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 somethingdeep 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.”
“I knew it!” the hunter exclaims with excitement before he winces in pain, straightening his back. “Continue southwest. Keep the mountains to your left. You can’t miss it.” He limps toward a nearby bush, fumbling with something hidden within. “The moment I saw you two, I was reminded of Krogoth and Rocks.”
My body tenses at the utterance of that hateful name—the traitor’s name. But Princesa soothes me with a gentle touch and a knowing glance.
His yellow eyes snap to mine, clutching a worn leather satchel in his arms. “Perhaps you Magaxus haven’t heard, hiding under your mountains as you do, but they completed the Mortakin-Tok. The first in hundreds of years.” His voice carries a trace of smugness as he glances between me and Princesa. “Seeing you two together, I think the Gods will also bless your union.” He smirks, tossing the bag at my feet.
The words bite into me, not for their novelty, but for their memory. It was all anyone spoke of until Krogothmurderedmy father and stole everything from me.
“Times are changing,” the hunter mutters, nodding his head.
I snatch his offering, handing it to Princesa.
“Oh, a gift? How exciting,” she says with a hint of delight. “Wait, there’s nothing horrible in here, right?” she adds, glaring at the hunter with narrowed silver eyes.
“Gods, no,” he says with a bow, though the gesture is undercut by the grimace of pain that flickers across his face. “As if I would sully such beauty.”
“See, Dracoth? Why can’t you be as charming as Jungle Book?” Princesa teases greedily, rummaging through the bag.
I glare at the hunter, contemplating whether snapping his spine might have been the better choice. He flinches under my gaze, tugging nervously at his dented vambraces.
“Ah, what’s this?” Princesa pulls out a canteen. “You want some, Todd?” She offers it to the creature after unscrewing the cap.As if that’s even necessary.Is this some masterful ruse of psychological warfare or human madness?
“Aww, he doesn’t like it.” She glances at the hunter expectedly.
“Well... of course not.” The hunter’s expression tightens with confusion as he watches the exchange. “It’s a cyloillar... they don’t drink alcohol?” he states in question as if doubting himself.
Princesa sniffs the liquid, her face twisting in distaste. “No wonder! This could blow his cute little head off.” She reseals the cap and tosses the canteen back into the bag. “Did you offer Krogoth and Rocks such a... shoddy gift?” Her voice sharpens, her eyes narrowing.
“No, I knew them—”
