The slow stir of fog and the rustle of leaves gives away the location of their deadly prey. The four Rurith warriors taper in, pursuing the moan coming from the shadows, confirming their path forward. The king signals the halt of their pursuit while their eyes search the dim light for a glimpse of what kind of beast they hunt. But this deep into the forest, pillars of vines and walls of foliage grow between tall trees, smothering the light. The hunters are lead only by sound and something else. Between faint bands of light, King Ivar catches glimpses of his son’s reactions. Unknown to the two guard, Ivar uses Leif’s responses as a guide to finding the beast.

The prince comes to a halt beside Eric, where, for the first time, Leif seems to have the feeling of danger under control. He wonders if all warriors have that same voice of instinct so loud that sometimes it is like a compulsion, one that cannot be controlled. But the fact that he has been locked away for the past six years has him doubtful.

The men stand awaiting the king’s next signal. For now, a wall made up of a wild webbing of brush, branches, flowers, and ferns keep them hidden. In the distance behind them, they hear the warning calls from the horses, aware that the beast is mindful of their presence. The forest awakens with a feral moan echoing into Hutmar Woodlands— a warning from the creature to the humans to stay away. But they have come this far, tracked their kingdom’s prowler into the darkest woodlands of the kingdom, and the men know they will never get another chance like this anytime soon. The beast must die today, should it not, the death of another villager at the claws of this deadly creature will be on their hands. The King is worried about the workers protesting against the lack of safety the Kingdom offers, and make Ivar’s reign a big familiar.

When a huffing sound breaks the moment of silence, they are made aware of the beasts close proximity. The creature seems to be moving closer to the wall of foliage that separates them. Knowing this is their only chance. The king indicates to his son to come to the front-line. Hesitantly, Leif makes it past Eric and Audun without meeting their gazes, the coil in his gut tightening to such an extent Leif finds it hard to breathe or think of anything else— just like the day his mamma died. King Ivar pulls Leif forward by his chest-plate and forcefully snatches up his blade and undoes his sons’ chest-plate and spiked gauntlet; then shoves his son forward. And even though Ivar’s face is shrouded by shadow, Prince Leif knows his father’s blue-black eyes scrutinize him and can almost feel the heated hatred directed at him through his father’s gaze. At fourteen, Leif is already half a head shorter than his father, his shoulders already meeting the breadth of Ivar’s— he can easily take his father down. But Leif fears such an act might cause him to lose the only thing he loves in his rotten existence: Avelyn.

She is the only one keeping him sane, he will not let that light die, for the sake of hope, love, and the peace he so desperately craves for their kingdom. Mostly, those sentiments are the only thing that he remembers of his mamma. And to share those traits is one of only a handful of ambitions that keeps him motivated. For now, Avelyn is that to him. With her, he is hopeful that one day, the kingdom will be ruled by the light he clings to in her eyes.

From behind the wall of overgrowth, the creaturesque moan comes again— louder and followed up by the roil of potential danger. The warriors draw their second weapons, Eric a bow with nails on one end, and king Ivar a battle axe and sword. Audun snatches up his throwing knives eagerly from under his blue tunic. The knifes a silent slice through the air as he unsheathes two thin blades, deadly hooks on each end, assuring the target can’t pull them out without taking a piece of flesh with it. Resting in his leather belt with the crest of Runith kingdom – a shield with two horses on each side, and in the middle two battle axes marking the worries of their kingdom, at the very tip of the shield a symbol for their water gods.

King Ivar warns his guard to keep behind him should the threat be bigger than expected. But there has not been anything or anyone that has challenged and won over the King of Runith before. Confused, Eric and Audun share a look at the same time a thump is followed by another. They listen carefully as the crushing of leaves and the sharp snap of twigs gives away the close proximity of the beast, almost upon them.

A shadow moves out of the obscure darkness from behind the intertwining laburnum, its yellow flowers stark against a midnight-furred pelt. A soft gasp escapes Leif. About to backpedal with the realization of the closeness of the massive form, Leif feels something forceful push up against him , the hand of his father forcing him into the clutches of the creature

The king and his guards watch as Leif is swallowed up by the brush. Immediately, the huffing, moaning, and grunts of the gigantic animal morph into a deep-throated pulsing sound rumbling through the woods— a recognizable sound to all hidden creatures that dwell in these lands. It is the sound a fierce black bear makes as its last warning. This warning is then followed by a yell from Leif.

“Stay back, please,” the prince shouts so loud it breaks his voice.

Audun is ready to leap through the bushes, but King Ivar stops him with a hard shove to his chest.

“Wait,” he demands of his men.

The prince’s plea is met by the menacing sound of a feral bellow that reverberates off the surrounding woods and is chased down by an unearthly silence. Unable to stand the tension anymore, Audun leaps forward, wanting to save his prince. Yet again, the king stops him, this time with the shove of a blade at his throat.

“My king!” Audun’s voice cracks with utter confusion, “Your son…”

“How will he become a king worthy of protecting our people if he can’t take on a simple bear?” Ivar sneers.

Eric interjects. “My lord, young Leif is only fourteen and unguarded with no weapon. This thing has killed grown men. The sheer size of—”

“He is not a young man anymore.” The king’s menacing voice shakes the very air around them, “It is about time we test his capabilities.”

Despite their king’s warning, both his guards get in front of Ivar— this, they know, will cost them dearly. But as last of the high guard in the Rurith kingdom, these men feel they cannot afford to ignore the risk that this threat might cause them to lose the heir to the throne. The survival of their people depends on Leif.  Audun and Eric storm the bushes, weapons slicing and jabbing at the shadows beyond. King Ivar follows his men when a sudden beam of light shines upon the remnants of blue tunic. Audun notices the light is coming from the king’s gauntlet. He swallows his thoughts as he realizes king Ivar holds witch magic in his gauntlet, he now understands why the gauntlet is always on the kings arm. Audun crouched to the ground, inspecting the evidence left behind. No Leif and no menacing bear— only pools of blood, chunks of black fur, and slivers of Leif’s blue tunic littering the ground.

The forest comes alive once more with a beastly moan, followed by the bears’ bellowing, then a deep pulsing sound trailed by what sounds like snapping fangs. Looking into the direction of the commotion, they conclude the brawl between the bear and Prince Leif has advanced deeper into the forest.

“But how?” Audun pulls at his beard. “They were right here, we heard it…” He stops talking and stands on finding deep gouges in the soil as if something heavy was pushed over the ground; claw marks not matching that of a bear.

The men leap forward at the same moment the screams and grisly shrills turn to something unrecognizable, sending shivers down the spines of the two guards and their fearless king. They quickly advance in that direction. Swords swinging as they keep their weapon of choice in the other hand. Audun breaks through one more barrier of foliage, flowers, leaves, and prickling twigs taking to the air in his wake.

“Help me,” Audun’s strangled voice comes from beyond the bushes.

Eric moves forward slowly, the smell of blood stinging at his nose. A few steps more, through the brush and the rays of the beaming gauntlet, they behold gigantic paws crowned by bloodied claws lying motionless on the forest floor before them.

Audun is trying hard to pull the bear off Leif without success. Eric wants to help, but as he moves forward, King Ivar yanks Eric back to take his stance beside him.

“Leave it be,” King Ivar says.

King Ivar and Eric take in the astounding scene before them; matted pieces of black pelt lay on the leaves at their feet. Eric and the king share a look while Audun tries hard to remove the branches from the bear, then screams at Eric. “Help me, Erik; the bear is crushing our prince.”

The king steps forward then pulls Audun’s hand; the force of his yank causes Audun to falter and drop the branch while falling to his haunches.

“Look,” King Ivar tells Audun with a slap to his bearded jaw.

Audun’s eyes fall to the movement coming from the bear on top of Prince Leif. Only a piece of Leif’s blue tunic and a spray of broken blue beads peek out from under the form of the gigantic black bear.

“What is it? What am I to see, my lord?” Audun cries out.

When he directs his eyes back to the scene, a river of blood stains the soil a cherry black, and as Audun’s stare intensifies, he sees movement. As the black bristly figure rises, they see their young prince has his feet under the massive form of the bear, and with an inhuman scream, giving one more thrust of his scrawny legs, the bear collapses, kicking up dirt and forest debris as its lifeless form smacks down on the earth.

In reaction, Eric takes a step back, wanting to look the other way, but the three warriors can’t look away. From the dead body of the hulking black bear, their eyes shoot up to watch as Prince Leif rises to a slow stand. With disbelief, they are anchored to the spot, unable to fathom what they think they see. Leif’s eyes are two bright golden orbs gleaming like a full moon against a starless sky, their glow emitting out into the woods around them. Leif’s hands have extended to claws resembling eagle talons, dripping with blood and forked with fur and pinkish flesh. Leif’s face is masked with garish insides and drool.

Read chapter one here