chapter one - Shitting and Death

"What a great day to shit oneself to death, don't you think?" My second oldest brother whispers beside me.

I roll my eyes and turn to face him. "Careful Illias, your sarcasm could get you killed, and then you'll be shitting yourself postmortem."

His thick dark brows bunch together as he huffs, cutting a gaze towards the woods in front of us. A broken sapling blocks our pathway, making it merely impossible to jump over the height of it, yet excellent when it comes to hiding from whatever creatures lie ahead of us.

"Why is it that you drag me out on every hunting escapade of yours?" He groans quietly as the morning spring sunlight streams through branches and high trees. "Why can't you ask Iker to do this instead?"

"Iker..." Being two years older than me could not tell whether it was day or night most of the time. "Iker is dreadful when it comes to moral support, unlike you. Besides, you're my favorite out of the three." I smile. Illias was known as the lenient one. He could never say no to my offers on getting him cans of paint for his canvases if he tagged along.

He scoffs, brown doe eyes find my light blue ones. "Now you are outright lying—"

I lift a hand to silence him and listen carefully as the bushes to my right rustle in the distance.

"What? What is it? Should I start running?" Illias asks. The lining on his dusted tunic fray at the edges.

My eyes search every thicket surrounding us. "Where did you set the trap?"

"Trap? I was supposed to set a trap?"

I turn my head slowly and grit my teeth. "I asked you yesterday!"

He gulps, short chestnut curls fall across his forehead, just about touching his brows. "Oh, we really are going to die, aren't we?"

It's a possibility, yes, but will I tell him? No, I won't. "I'll just have to catch it a different way," I say and rise to my feet. Birds scatter towards the skies, and the wind blows wisps of my hair across, dark and eerie.

I pull the cloak down from my head and draw two daggers out of the leather sheath strapped around my corset. I wait five short seconds before a crack of a branch comes from my side, and I whisper, "Now... you can run."

On cue, Illias takes off in the opposite direction as a Rumen catapults out of the bushes, heading to the main forests. I waste no time leaping over the sapling. One of the blades warms against my non-gloved hand as my boots sink into the crusted grass. I pass darker branches, lichens, and shrubs as the Rumen screeches in the distance.

Pausing in the middle when it's no longer in sight, I keep my grip steady and bring the dagger to the side of my head.

Rumen's rely on scent and hearing. With the body of a long snake, slim... grime to the touch and the wings of a bat, humans knew better than to face them. I was that one idiot... facing them. They have no sight except slits at both sides of where eyes should be but their screech? A deathly sound no one should ever experience at proximity.

I don't intend on killing one. My primary purpose is trapping, even if a Rumen is one of the hardest to catch due to its fast agility. Yet, a simple nick to their scales on their back would render them weak.

More birds flee from their nests, and I wait... I wait for any movement, any noise to show the Rumen is still lurking through the depths of the woods.

Turning in a slow circle, my breath wavers. And just as I spot a glimmer of sun bounce off the scales of the Rumen hidden between bushes, a snap of a twig behind triggers the Rumen, causing it to fly out, fangs at the ready as it sends me back onto the floor. Both knives fall from my hands, and I bring my forearm out to its neck, stopping the horrid creature from biting me.

Everyone knows the bite of one is lethal, a death unimaginable.

I wince, trying to reach my blade at the far left of me while the Rumen's head comes down, snapping its razor teeth and bellowing out its cries which only remind me of something far feared in our land.

Dragons.

Suddenly flashes of that day when I was twelve years old echo my mind. How my mother's screams vibrated our cottage as I stood there paralyzed with fear, watching a dragon kill my father in broad daylight.

I grunt out a cry as the Rumen's talons sink into the side of my leg, the same ones the dragon used when Idris shot that arrow to its back. The memory was all but a white hue of blurs—a blend of what was hovering over me right now and the past. I had raised my arm as a shield back then, yet the blunt force of the arrow made the dragon's claw slice down into my palm.

As my mind allows me to focus on the present, I stare right into those slit eyes, and at that moment, the Rumen stops just how the dragon once did, like it was analyzing me. I take that as my chance, and once my hand latches onto the handle of the blade, I bare my strength and ram it into the side of its neck, deepening it until blood, warm and thick that of lava comes down my hand.

The Rumen screams out its agony one last time before slumping. Membranous wings fall limp, and I push it off me, scrambling to my feet while catching my breath.

So much for not wanting to kill.

Picking up the other blade, I half turn to try and find Illias when a sense of darkness up ahead beckons me. I stare at the thorns encasing the forest across to what is known as the screaming forests. A section that separates the land of Emberwell from Terranos and a place where rulers of earthly immortals resided. No human on our side ever dares pass it. Not after the settlement was forged for all of Zerathion and its four lands, three hundred years ago. We lived among creatures, yet whatever vile monster crossed our territories, we were allowed to do as we pleased with them.

"What did you do?" Ilias comes over, panting, and pulls me out of my thoughts. "Ivarron always wants them alive!"

I tear my gaze away from the thorns that almost protect the forest and instinctively wrap callous hands around my other wrist. Glancing down at the fingerless leather glove ending just below the elbow—at the scar that hid beneath, I say, "It had the upper hand... I had no choice." And look at Illias.

He stares and brows furrow like he knows that's not the case. I may hunt, trap creatures, but my brother could always detect when something bothered me and that something tends to be what had happened all those years ago.

"Come on." I motion my head before he can say anything and start walking out of the woods towards the main village.

---

The fresh scent of baked goods fills the clammy air of the market square as we make our way past horses and carts. People smile towards Illias, and I watch as he does the same, except when they see me next to him, they duck their heads and scurry off. Something I'd been used to after everyone found out I work for Ivarron as a trapper. It wasn't a safe job, and Ivarron was known as a scheming pig.

"Shit, kill me right now," Illias mutters. I glance at him with a wary frown, stepping on pieces of stray hay across the cobbled ground, and stumble to a pause from the pain that Rumen's talons caused on my thigh.

"What is it?"

"Kye is over there." He nudges his chin forward. I then look to where his past lover, someone that happened to work as a woodcutter alongside Idris, was idly leaning against a murky stone wall, talking to a friend of his. An immediate glare forms my features, remembering how broken Illias came home one night over Kye's infidelity.

"He's been spreading a rumor about my hand," Illias continues with a murmur. My glare deepens as I lower my eyes to the two fingers Illias had on his left hand. A born defect with just his index and thumb, but that never stopped him from creating artwork beyond imagination. "That I was born a beast worse than the Rumen's and that no one should approach me or the venom I'd spew would kill them in an instant."

"How come I have not heard of this rumor?" I seethe. The stupidity if anyone was to believe such a thing when many adore Illias.

"Because half the village is afraid of you," he retorts, making a solid point. Not only did the people fear me as Ivarrons trapper, but they also thought of me to turn drastic when it came to protecting Illias. A reason as to why no one ever befriended or found interest in me, not that I wanted someone. Either I'd end up chasing them away, or Idris would do it for me.

I focus my deadly gaze on Kye, his long blond hair dry and brittle even from afar. "Stay here," I say and ignore Illias's pleads not to do anything foolish as I start heading Kye's way with a slight limp.

"Kye." A mocking smile when I near him. His golden complexion turns bleak white as he spots me and straightens off the wall. His friend mimics his moves, and I swear a slight tremble comes from him. "You remember me, right?"

He nods, swallowing and unable to look away as if he fears I could snap any moment. I could, but that would require effort, and it has been an awful long morning already.

"Well, I couldn't help but overhear this rumor—" I place a dry, bloodied finger against my chin. "That is going around to do with Illias..."

He opens his mouth, but I don't let him even get the first letter out. "Now, it's strange because I'm not sure how you found out." I sigh dramatically. "But you were right, and It's hard when we know we can't have you around telling everyone so—" I move my cloak and show the knives strapped to me. "Perhaps I should just kill you before you inform anyone else."

His face blanchs. "I didn't mean to say anything, I swear it. It was just a stupid joke!"

"Listen, Kye," I say and lean in, making sure he and his so-called companion can hear me as the words come out with such threat, "If you ever make up a rumor or break my brothers' heart again. I assure you, no amount of healers will be able to fix what I can do to you..." Satisfied, I step back, and a smile shapes my lips as I watch Kye's throat bob. His wide green eyes slide from me to his friend before both nod frantically and usher away.

I inhale with pride and spin on my feet, heading back to Illias as I take out my wood carving of a crescent moon from my pocket, weaving it skillfully through each finger. A lucky carving, I called it, something I had been carrying around with me since the age of ten after someone dropped it.

Illias grimaces, rubbing his face. "Do I want to know what you said?"

"No," I say. "No, you do not." Wanting to grab his arm, he stops me from doing so and peers over my head wide-eyed.

"Shit, Venators."

Upon hearing that word, my head whirls around at the villagers passing by with their tattered dresses and tunics until looking past them, I see... dragon hunters. The queen's noble warriors, known as the Venators that reside in the infamous city of flames. What my father once served as and my one dream to become one.

I inhale softly at the dark leather-plated armor shaping each strong Venator. My eyes travel from a few standing guard in every corner of the village to one of the female Venators. She holds her firm posture as the sun shines down on the flame designs wrapping around her leathered forearms like that fire is prepared to decimate the existence of anything that harms our land.

Surveying them all, my sight soon catches the color of red across from me—a band on the arm of another hunter. From here, a normal person wouldn't be able to make out the engravings, but I knew of them. I had seen that mark of the gold scaled dragon, roaring with the fire enveloping it because of my father...

Only leaders of the Venators have them. That's why dragging my gaze up to see who this leader is, a sense of shock dips my stomach at how young the Venator looks. Short copper hair resembling the color of flames that also border his arms, shag at the neck. The defined muscular arms, as he crosses them over, draw my attention. And from how sharply cut his face was, you could see even from here he was without a doubt a handsome man—a warrior of class.

His eyes, whatever color they may be, cut to me, and for a minute, neither of us make an effort to look away.

"What are they doing here?" I place the moon back in my pocket with caution, and I ask Illias, tilting my head slightly as the Venator and I continue staring.

"They look to be patrolling," he says, stating the obvious. I give him a severe look, and he sighs. "Maybe a dragon was spotted nearby. It'd make sense since many houses have boarded up their windows."

A dragon... we hadn't had a sighting in our village since—since that day, nine years ago.

Whipping my head back around, the Venator doesn't step down from his stare. I glower in his direction, hoping he's the first to look away, and to my contentment, he does but a tug at his lips has me questioning what he finds so amusing.

I'm prepared to go there and ask myself when Illias links an arm around mine and drags me away from another passing cart. "Let's head to Ivarron's and get this shit over and done with."

Right... Ivarron.

A/N

Hey everyone I'm Rina (Karina) Hope you are enjoying the chapters so far