Chapter 534: Hunting
Despite the warmth of his touch and the reassuring weight of his arms, Salviana’s fear lingered like a persistent ghost. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the mindless royalties reaching to slay them.
As they stepped out of their chambers, the hallway felt narrower than usual, the shadows longer. She clutched Alaric’s arm, her fingers digging into the leather of his sleeve.
She was the Fire, and he was the Darkness, but as the horns sounded from the courtyard, signaling the start of the hunt, Salviana couldn’t help but feel that they were walking directly into the belly of the horror she had spent all night trying to escape.
The nightmare wasn’t over. It was just beginning.
Alaric walked with a terrifyingly calm confidence, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade, his senses already fanned out to catch the slightest ripple in the air.
Salviana walked beside him, her spine stiff and her face a mask of royal composure, but beneath the silk of her gown, her skin was cold. She kept glancing at the high windows, checking the color of the sky, half-expecting the morning blue to curdle into that sickly, bruised amber at any moment.
As they reached the courtyard, the air was filled with the braying of hounds and the restless stomping of horses. The rest of the hunting party was already mounted—a sea of glittering armor and false smiles.
Salviana’s eyes swept over the familiar faces of the court, searching for the "milky eyes" she had seen in her sleep. Everyone looked normal, yet to her, they looked like ghosts waiting to happen.
’I need to stay calm’ she mused. She really did, this was not the time to have her thought all over the place.
Alaric helped her onto her horse, his grip on her waist lingering for a fraction of a second too long—a silent reassurance.
He then mounted the same stallion, looking every bit the dark prince the myths warned about because he didn’t like the idea of being separate from her.
Salviana smiled, he hadn’t mind in the dream, that was how she should’ve known it was a nightmare.
The King raised his hand, the signal for the horn to blow. The sound pierced the morning air, sharp and final. As the horses began to trot toward the gates that led to the Great Southern Wilds, Salviana reached out and gripped the reins so hard her knuckles turned white.
Before they reached the main assembly, Alaric veered his stallion toward the edge of the stone courtyard where a solitary figure stood waiting.
It was Lucius, his best friend and the only knight Alaric fully trusted with his life. Lucius held a large black umbrella, its dark canopy shielding him from the morning glare, a stark contrast to the colorful banners of the other knights.
Alaric leaned down from his saddle, his voice dropping to a sharp, low rasp that only Lucius could hear.
"Lucius," he began, his eyes fixed on the dark line of the forest ahead. "I need you to move ahead of the main party. There is a suspicious figure—a shadow that doesn’t belong—stalking the Great Southern Wilds. I need you to be there before us and make sure the clearing is safe. If you see anything that moves with an unnatural rhythm, or anyone watching from the ridges, do not wait for my command. Act."
Lucius tightened his grip on the handle of the umbrella, his expression shifting from calm to a grim, focused intensity.
He didn’t ask how Alaric knew or why the sudden change in plans had occurred; years of friendship had built a silence that understood the weight of a warning. He gave a sharp, decisive nod.
"I’ll scout the perimeter of the stone ruins first," Lucius replied, his voice a steady anchor. "If there’s a trap being laid, I’ll find them before you step in/"
Salviana watched them fromim front of Alaric, her heart tripping over itself. Seeing Lucius—real, solid, and already moving toward the tree line—gave her a flicker of hope. In her nightmare, Alaric is surrounded by enemies he called families. By sending Lucius ahead, he was already rewriting the script of her vision.
"Be careful, Lucius," Salviana whispered as he turned to depart.
He offered her a brief, respectful bow of his head before disappearing into the shadows of the outer gates, moving with a silent speed that rivaled Alaric’s own.
Alaric returned to Salviana’s side, his hand momentarily brushing hers. "He is the best," he reassured her, though his jaw remained tight. "If there is an ’Eye’ in those woods, Lucius will be the one to poke it out."
With the vanguard set, they turned their horses back toward the royal procession. The King’s horn sounded a second time, more impatient now, and the hunt officially began.
As they rode through the arched gates and the temperature dropped under the canopy of the ancient trees, Salviana felt the first cold shiver of the forest’s breath.
The woods were thick with the smell of wet earth and pine, reverberating with the loud, careless chatter of the royal court.
"I caught a rabbit, hahaha!" Prince Lucas’s boisterous voice echoed through the trees, completely abandoning any pretense of stealth.
Further off, another prince sprinted through the underbrush, shouting triumphantly about catching a peasant bird, while a princess let out a dramatic, piercing scream. "Oh my God! That’s a deer!"
Her shrill cry shattered the quiet, sending the deer bounding away into the deep brush within seconds. A collective groan echoed through the trees as the rest of the hunters rolled their eyes in deep disappointment. Everyone knew the first rule of the hunt: silence was survival. Searing the air with loud speech only guaranteed your prey would run.
Ignoring the noisy chaos of the court, Alaric and Salviana pressed deeper into the woods, leaving the chatter behind. They dismounted, tying their horses to the sturdy trunk of an old oak. Alaric unslung his bow, his dark eyes sharp and focused as he notched an arrow. Salviana, her heart pounding with lingering dread, knelt to gather heavy, smooth pebbles from the damp earth, slipping them into her pouch. She didn’t have much practical use for them, but holding something heavy gave her a small sense of grounding. Alaric caught her eye and gave her a soft, amused smile—he knew she was just trying to keep him company, but her presence warmed the quiet tension in his chest.
Salviana remained fiercely vigilant, her green eyes darting between the shadows of the ancient trees. She couldn’t shake the terror of her dream; the evil figure, the possessed court, the bloody betrayal. She didn’t trust a single member of this family. To her, every prince and princess yelling in the distance was a potential enemy, waiting for the sky to turn amber.
Suddenly, Alaric froze. He caught Salviana’s attention with a subtle shift of his posture and whispered, *"My love..."*
He raised a slow, deliberate finger, pointing toward a dense thicket. Salviana’s eyes widened as she spotted it—a massive, wild boar, its heavy tusks gleaming under the filtered sunlight. She gasped silently, a sudden spike of fear tightening her throat. It was huge. If a beast that size charged, it was lethally dangerous; every instinct told her they should back away and leave it be.
Before she could utter a word, Alaric pressed a finger to his lips, giving her a quiet *"Shh."*
Salviana forced herself to stay perfectly still. Spooking a beast that size would only cause it to attack or run, and she couldn’t risk revealing her panic. Her grip tightened on her pouch of pebbles as she held her breath, her eyes flicking from the massive boar back to her husband.
Alaric drew the bowstring back to his ear, his posture completely rigid, his dark eyes locking onto his target as he prepared to strike.
’Huh’ Salviana was breathing really loudly.
The bowstring hummed with tension, the dark wood groaning under the sheer, effortless power of Alaric’s draw. His eyes narrowed, reflecting the dappled sunlight filtering through the dense canopy above. Beside him, Salviana remained frozen, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. The silence between them grew so taut it felt on the verge of snapping.
The boar snorted, a low, guttural sound that shook the quiet underbrush. It took a slow step forward, its deadly tusks lifting as its nostrils flared to catch a scent on the wind.
Alaric didn’t hesitate.
*Thwip.*
The arrow tore through the air with a sharp, brutal whistle. Before the beast could even register the sound, the iron tip struck deep and true, piercing straight into its heart. The massive boar collapsed with a heavy, final thud, rustling the fallen leaves once before going completely still.
Alaric lowered his bow with fluid grace, turning his gaze back to Salviana. The dangerous, sharp focus in his eyes softened instantly as he met her wide green gaze. He offered her a faint, reassuring smirk.
"See?" he murmured, stepping closer and reaching out to take her trembling hand. "Quick and clean. No danger."
Salviana let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her fingers tightening around the heavy pouch of pebbles at her waist.
The boar was dead, but the eerie stillness that followed its fall felt heavy—like the quiet before a storm. She glanced past Alaric’s shoulder, scanning the surrounding trees, half-expecting the shadows to stretch and twist into the nightmare she was so desperately trying to outrun.
"We shouldn’t linger here," she whispered, her eyes still searching the dark line of the woods. "It’s too quiet now."
Alaric’s smirk faded into a vigilant nod. He drew his hunting blade to clear the kill, but his ears remained pricked for the slightest sound—waiting to see if Lucius would emerge from the fog, or if the forest was about to reveal its true teeth.
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