Aurelith was a humble kingdom of stone walls and stubborn pride, tucked in a fractured land where peace was fragile. Yet from that quiet soil, two souls emerged. One, a prince shaped by duty, desperate to protect everyone but never quite understanding how. The other, a girl shaped by silence, golden-eyed and soft-spoken, far more patient with him than he ever deserved. Their meeting was no accident, no matter what Edmund believed. From their trial, the world’s light would kindle once more. But I get ahead of myself. For now, picture a clearing, a boy holding out hay to his horse, and a girl making sure it won’t chew his hair instead.

  It was the year 1728 in the Concordian Calendar. Autumn had cooled the air until every breath carried a faint scent of woodsmoke and iron. The leaves had only just begun to change their colors. Along the forest fringe, signs of a certain beast were fresh and plentiful. In a clearing in the forest’s interior, Prince Edmund’s retinue encamped and made ready for the hunt. Some whetted their swords until they caught glints of afternoon light; others tested the pull of their bows, arrows whispering into straw targets; a few hurled javelins into tree stumps, each impact followed by rough laughter or muttered curses.

  Edmund lingered by his tent while the scouts searched for signs of the beast. His red hair, despite a full day spent combing thickets and trudging over brambles, was still fairly well kept, and his blue eyes remained bright with youthful eagerness. His deep blue jerkin and black trousers, however, bore the stains of the day’s work. The laundrywomen would not envy their coming task. “What do you think, Serena?” Edmund asked as he held out a strip of hay just out of reach of his horse’s teeth. “Will the beast be as big as they say?”

  Beside him stood a girl draped in a simple red dress with matching cloak and wearing brown boots. Her braided blonde hair fell over her shoulders and golden eyes caught the light as if the sun itself lingered in her gaze. She said little, but her presence at his side was like a shadow that glowed rather than darkened. Quiet, constant, and unmistakable. “I… hope not,” she murmured, her gaze fixed on the ground. “I don’t… want you… to get hurt.” The words came haltingly, her tongue still learning to shape them. Her speech was still fractured, though it should not have come as a surprise. Only two years had passed since the king found her in the northern woods, alone and unconscious, with no memory and robbed of language itself. All they knew then was that she was an Alvarynn, made plain by the pointed ears that marked her kind.

  “We have soldiers with us,” Edmund said, grinning as he let the horse finally take the hay, patting its neck while it chewed. “Besides, even if I get hurt, you’re here. One touch, and all is well again.”

  At that, Serena finally lifted her gaze. Her golden eyes narrowed as they met his. “That is… no reason… to be reckless.”

  “She’s right, Your Highness,” said a man approaching the two. He was tall, clad in plated armor, his close-cropped brown hair catching the sun. A thin scar ran across his right cheek. “Your sixteenth birthday is a week away,” he said. “Let’s not have you celebrating your coming of age with a missing limb.”

  Edmund glanced between them, outnumbered and outreasoned, then rubbed the back of his neck.

  He raised a hand as if to seal the vow. “Alright, Conrad. Serena. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

  Serena tilted her head. “Why ask for a hunt… before your birthday… anyway?”

  Edmund looked toward the dark stretch of trees. “I want to test myself in combat and command both. To see if I can lead.”

  “The king… agreed?” she asked.

  “Luckily for His Highness,” Conrad said with a wry smile, “King Renault was eager to see if his son is ready to bear the weight of a crown.”

  A nearby soldier, eavesdropping as he checked his bowstring, called out, “And not just any hunt either! It’s that great boar of the southern woods, the one twice as big as a bull! Powerful enough to ram a wagon in half!”

  “They say it keeps to itself unless provoked or when it’s hungry,” another added, “but once it charges, there’s no stopping it!”

  Serena’s brow knit. “It sounds… really dangerous.”

  Edmund’s grin faded, replaced by resolve. “That’s why it must be hunted. It’s been attacking the villages, tearing through barns, dragging livestock into the forest. Someone has to stop it.”

  A hush settled over the group. Even the jests and laughter from the clearing died down for moment. Edmund’s gaze stayed fixed on the tree line. He knew what the others did, that older, more seasoned hunters had failed. The beast’s hide bore the scars of their arrows and blades. Still, this was his test, his proving. And he would not turn back. The quiet was broken by a scout bursting from the trees, breathless. “Highness! We’ve found the beast!”

  Edmund’s eyes widened, his whole frame alight with excitement. “Are you certain? Where is it?”

  “West, sire, toward the lowlands,” the man answered, pointing back the way he had come.

  Edmund snatched up his armor from his tent, fastening the plates in practiced haste. “Tell the men to get ready. We march before it slips away.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” The scout bowed and hurried to relay the order.

  Edmund strapped his armor and buckled his sword-belt, turning toward Serena. “You hear that? We’re finally going after it.”

  She exhaled, steady yet weary. “Just… don’t forget… your promise,” she murmured. “Be careful.”

  Edmund paused, hand resting on the sword at his side. He ran his thumb along the edge of the scabbard before sliding the blade into the scabbard. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

  Serena didn’t look away, measuring if the prince would keep his word.

  Edmund stood at the clearing’s edge with his retinue assembled behind him. He scanned the forest ahead. The trees stood calm, unmoving, the silence broken only by the occasional chirp of birds or the lazy drone of insects. A peaceful scene in every sense, yet Edmund knew what waited beyond would betray that calm. He turned to his men. “Is everyone ready?”

  The soldiers glanced at one another. When no one spoke against him, they nodded as one, the clank of bending armor their unspoken answer. Edmund was about to give the order to march when another soldier approached, Serena beside him, cloak bright against the muted woods. Edmund raised a brow as he strode to her. “Are you coming with us? I thought you would stay here in the camp.”

  “In case… you get injured…” Serena replied, voice soft but firm, “so I can… heal you… right away.”

  The guard sighed. “Apologies, Highness, but she insisted.”

  One of the soldiers frowned. “She’s too small. It’s not safe.”

  Another folded his arms. “Gualter, how did she convince you? You’re the adult here.”

  Gualter dropped his gaze. “She—she threatened to tell the king we’ve been gambling during our shifts.”

  Edmund turned slowly, scanning his retinue. Eyes widened, mouths parted. Every man knew it was true. They had dismissed her when she was wordless, but the girl had learned to speak, and to use her words well. A bowman forced a laugh. “Of course she should come. What’ll we do without a healer?”

  Suddenly, the rest agreed. Serena was now indispensable, unless they wanted the king to hear of their ventures. Edmund shut his eyes, brow furrowing, and shook his head in disbelief. When he opened them again, he asked her quietly, “Are you certain you wish to come? The beast may be fiercer than we know.”

  She nodded once.

  “Very well,” Edmund drew a breath and turned back to the forest. “Let’s move.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  He stepped into the tree line, his men following in file. The path to the beast was anything but pleasant. Vegetation pressed close on either side, thickets armed with thorns that stung like poison. Roots knotted across the trail, eager to trip the unwary, while armor weighed heavy on shoulders already sore. Strange insects swarmed from nowhere, landing on faces and crawling beneath helmets until even Aurelith’s toughest men gave sharp yelps of protest.

  “The men will be done for before we even lay eyes on the beast,” Conrad murmured.

  Edmund cast a glance behind him. One soldier swung his head side to side like a nervous hound.

  Another leveled a sword at a fat raccoon which blinked at him in utter disinterest. “They look fine to me,” Edmund said, though the corner of his mouth twitched. As they pressed deeper, Conrad stepped closer to Edmund’s side. “Remember, Highness,” he muttered, “you do not strike until the beast is weakened. Magic drains plenty of energy, even for a single shot. Save your strength for the killing blow. If we fail to finish it, it’ll vanish into these woods, and we’ll have to hunt it again.”

  Edmund nodded, though his pace quickened. Patience was proving harder than courage. Amidst the grumbling, Serena halted. She tilted her head, golden eyes narrowing as she listened. A faint creak, branches bending where no wind stirred. She turned back, staring at the canopy. Only a scatter of leaves drifted down from a distant bough. “Did… anyone hear that?” she asked softly. “All I can hear is the buzzing of that beetle that crawled in my ear,” one man muttered, scratching furiously. “I heard… something… behind us. In the trees,” Serena said, her gaze still on the leaves above.

  Gualter forced a laugh, too thin, too quick. “This forest is crawling with things, Serena. Insects, critters, and —” he paused, tensed, eyes suddenly darting side to side. Gualter swallowed, “Maybe even giant spiders.”

  The way he said spiders made him stumble a step.

  After a long and irksome march, Edmund raised his hand to halt them. He turned to the scout. “This is the place, isn’t it?”

  The man nodded. “Yes, sire.”

  Edmund’s eyes swept the undergrowth, and there, to the left, he saw a trail of trampled brush. He signaled for silence, gesturing for his men to follow. They crept forward, every step cautious. At last, they found it. The beast lay sprawled in a clearing, belly pressed to earth. Its bulk was twice that of a bull, fur dark and bristling, pelt scarred. The tusks curled like scythes, ridged and yellowed with age. Its head was massive, jaws heavy with teeth too sharp for any mere grazer, a maw shaped for tearing, not rooting. A true predator wrapped in a herbivore’s skin.

  Some called it a boar, but the name did it no justice. It was an echo of older things, a beast out of forgotten ages, as though the earth itself had coughed up a remnant of some primeval hunger. Even in its slumber, it radiated menace. The air around it seemed to tense, as though the forest itself feared to stir too loudly. Serena had been ordered to stay back with Gualter, near the trail’s mouth. Reluctantly, she obeyed.

  Edmund kept his anticipation on a tight leash. This was no test of swordplay alone, nor of courage, but of command. He scanned the clearing and gestured silently, splitting his men into two groups. They fanned out, slipping behind trees and brush, bows drawn, javelins readied, spears braced. Then, a branch cracked.

  One soldier stumbled, swore under his breath. The sound tore the stillness apart. The beast stirred, rising slowly, hulking mass shifting, tusks dragging through the dirt. Edmund’s pulse quickened. It hadn’t yet sensed the ring tightening around it. Not fully. His men froze, holding their breath as the monster sniffed the air, ears twitching. It then turned toward Fulk, the only bowman still on the ground, pressed tight behind a tree he hadn’t climbed in time, his face drained of color. He looked at Edmund, eyes wide, silently begging for orders. The prince lifted one hand, steady, pressing a finger to his lips. Hold.

  Fulk swallowed hard and gave the smallest nod. The boar lumbered closer, its snout working, tusks gleaming wet. Edmund’s heart hammered. His men shifted, bows taut, spears quivering in their hands. One muttered a prayer. Another clenched his jaw so tight his teeth clicked. Edmund raised his hand higher. Meanwhile, the beast drew nearer, close enough that Fulk’s bowstring trembled with every breath he dared to take.

  Finally, before it could get closer, Edmund’s hand dropped. A storm of arrows and javelins ripped through the stillness, thudding into the bristled fur. The monster bellowed, more like the sound of an alligator growling than a boar, whipping its massive head. Spears shuddered where they struck, arrows snapped against its thrashing bulk. The wounds were shallow. Mere insults, not injuries.

  The boar’s small, dark eyes flared red with rage. Steam blasted from its maw, curling through the cold air. The beast then lowered its head, its hooves tearing gouges in the soil. It first spotted Matthew and Elias, two of the javelin-men. The beast lunged first toward them. Both flung themselves to the ground, rolling aside as tusks tore the air where their bodies had been. Earth split under the impact, a furrow gouged deep by the monster’s charge.

  Above, the six bowmen scrambled higher into the branches, scrambling for safer perches. Lyam, hands steady on his rune-bow, drew back the shimmering cord, light crackling along its length. Before the beast could charge again, Lyam loosed, the shot searing through the air and struck true, but only in the shoulder. The monster barely flinched. It wheeled toward Elias and barreled straight on.

  The soldier dove aside at the last instant, with the boar hitting a tree instead. The trunk splintered with a violent crack as the shattered top crashed to the forest floor. From their positions, the bowmen didn’t relent, arrows kept raining from every angle. Shafts buried into its hide, into its haunches, along its bristled spine. The beast staggered under the hail, then bellowed and hurled itself toward a tree where bowman was perched on a low branch. The tree shuddered and the archer was nearly flung to the dirt below. Subtlety was gone. “Shield wall!” Edmund roared.

  “Shield wall!” Conrad echoed, voice striking like steel. The spearmen surged into formation, shields slammed edge-to-edge, weapons thrust forward in a bristling hedge of iron. They stomped once, a single thunderous answer, drawing the monster’s gaze like a challenge. It came at them like a landslide. Tusks slammed against iron shields while spears punched deep into its throat, and still the boar thundered onward.

  The line shattered at the impact. Men were hurled, armor crunching against roots and stone. One tumbled, clutching a bleeding leg, another stared at the sundered halves of his shield. A soldier screamed as a hoof glanced his side, ribs splintering under the blow. After finishing its charge, the beast didn’t rest, lurching upright again, blood streaking its neck, steam blasting from its maw in crimson bursts. Its fury remained undimmed.

  “We should have brought pikes, Highness,” Conrad snarled, dragging a soldier onto his feet.

  Edmund, already climbing to get into position, replied without looking back. “At least we’ll know for next time.”

  Conrad gaped. “Next time?”

  Another volley hissed from the trees, striking its hindquarters. The beast spun, its tusks carving the air once more. The spearmen scattered, baiting it between boulders and trunks, stabbing whenever its attention wavered. Bark flew, stones cracked, the very ground shook with every impact.

  “Keep it turning!” Edmund barked. “Wear it down!”

  His men followed until at last, the monster slowed, its breath rasping in wet bursts. Conrad broke from cover, waving, drawing it toward the tree where Edmund stood poised. The beast thundered after him. He dove aside at the last instant. The monster’s skull slammed into the tree, the crack echoing through the forest, but just before it did, Edmund leapt. He landed astride its back, fingers buried in coarse bristles, and plunged his sword down. The blade sank deep into the shoulder, metal grinding through muscle.

  The beast screamed, thrashing so violently Edmund nearly lost his grip. He clung fast, teeth gritted, muscles burning. Blind fury surged through the monster. It bucked, whipped its head, smashed itself against trees in a desperate attempt to shake him free. Edmund kept his grip. He wrenched his sword free, muscles straining, breath burning, until the steel tore free in a spray of hot blood. He raised it again, driving the blade toward the nape where the spine must be. Blood and steam burst hot across his hands as the beast roared. Finally, it faltered.

  “Now!” Edmund shouted. Conrad drew his sword, flaring it crimson as he coat it with magic, increasing its speed and power. He surged forward, blade low. Steel flashed as he carved across the beast’s hind legs, cutting its tendons. The monster crashed to the earth with a thunderous squeal, dirt exploding beneath its weight. Edmund forced himself upright after the beast fell, breath ragged, sword slick in his grip. He raised it high, and for just a heartbeat, he hesitated. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to the beast. “But we can’t let you harm anyone else.”

  He drove the blade down, straight into the thick muscle at the base of its neck. Edmund gathered his energy, eyes focused. Crimson light bloomed beneath his skin, radiating outward. It surged into his grip, flowing down the sword until every inch of steel burned with it. A beam of light then burst from the point of impact, clean and blinding. The beast convulsed once, then stilled, its fury evaporating into the cold air. Silence fell at last, true silence.

  For a moment, Edmund didn’t move. He knelt on the fallen beast’s back, catching his breath, lightning flickering along his sword as he pulled it free from flesh. He then slid from its back, legs trembling, lungs burning. He looked at his men. They were bruised and bloodied, but still alive. “We… did it,” Edmund breathed.

  The men staggered together, laughing as they clapped one another on the shoulder. Their victory cry rose ragged and real, echoing through the trees. A soft voice then cut through it. “That was… incredible, Highness.”

  Edmund turned, and there she was. Serena stood at the tree line, her red cloak stark against the carnage, golden eyes steady on him.

  “Serena?” Edmund blinked. “How long have you been watching?”

  “Just before you… leapt onto its back,” she said gently.

  Gualter fumbled for words. “I tried to make her stay, sire. She, ah… convinced me otherwise.”

  Edmund’s brow rose. “Threatened you again?”

  Gualter scratched the back of his head, gaze lowered.

  Edmund stepped closer. “So… was it reckless?”

  Serena tilted her head, studying him with quiet sincerity. “Just enough,” she murmured. Relief softened his shoulders. A small smile found his lips. “Alright then. Let’s head back.”

  The men began their march toward the clearing, cheering and dragging their wounded along with triumphant grins. None of them noticed that high above, a figure crouched among the branches,

  its gaze cold, calculating, waiting.

  The hunt isn’t over.