The Hunter of Hawk and Wolf

Sevha and Elise stared at each other in silence. Atop the long rampart, with the burning Anse Castle as their backdrop, they saw only each other. The soldiers between them were mere obstacles.

It was like a scene from a play: the two of them, protagonists on a stage.

“I knew you or Edgar would come.”

As Sevha etched Elise’s face and voice into his fading mind, a smile escaped his lips.

In that same moment, he understood the feeling behind his smile—the feeling he had held for Elise all this time.

It was love.

“Eli…”

Just then, the flames consuming Anse Castle, the backdrop to their stage, roared higher. The screams of the people of Anse burning to death echoed louder.

That sight, those screams, made Sevha realize why he had only now understood his feelings for Elise.

Because he had lost too much.

Because he had lost what he could not bear to lose, even in death.

Because he had grown enough to see beyond the walls that once blocked his view.

Because Edgar, Elise’s fiancé—the line that must not be crossed—was gone.

Because Marina, in death, had shown him what love was.

This realization erased the smile from Sevha’s face.

And then he knew what he felt for her now.

It was hatred.

“Eli…se.”

As he drew out her name, hatred swelled within him, tangling with and consuming the love that had been there a moment before.

His face contorted, as if he might weep from sorrow or roar with rage at her deceit.

And then he knew what he must feel for Elise from now on.

The moment he knew, Sevha’s mouth opened like a beast’s, his canines bared like a wolf’s, and he howled.

“Elise Schreier!”

The feeling Sevha must harbor for Elise from this day forward was a hatred greater than love.

Not Eli, but Elise Schreier.

Hearing her name called out, stretched by the distance that had grown between them, Elise studied him carefully.

Sevha’s face was a mask of hatred, with sorrow seeping through its cracks.

The corners of Elise’s eyes trembled.

From what emotion did that tremor spring?

As if to bury the answer, Elise let a pitiless coldness wash over her face.

“Sevha.”

Sevha screamed, “Why did you betray us!”

As if even the time it would take to hear an answer was a waste, Sevha drew his handaxe and charged.

“Protect Her Ladyship!”

The soldiers beside Elise moved to block him.

But he did not stop.

Sevha brought the axe down on the head of the foremost soldier.

As blood splattered across his face, he spun.

A spear thrust by a soldier behind him tore through his shoulder. Instead of a scream, Sevha let out a roar and threw the handaxe into the soldier’s face.

As the axe embedded itself in the man’s skull, Sevha drew a knife and ran toward Elise again.

Again he was torn by swords and spears as he killed the soldiers. His mind grew hazy from the poison, but still he charged onward.

There was no stealth in Sevha’s charge, no self-preservation. No calculation, no mercy. He was like the beasts he had hunted his entire life.

Watching him, Elise spoke, her voice too quiet to betray any emotion.

“Sevha. For all the talk of restraint, what you are now is simply human. To weep when sad, to rage when angered… that is what it is to be human. In the face of desire, we cannot help but become beasts that know no patience.”

Elise spoke the words as if to herself, and then turned away. She walked along the rampart, paying no mind to the dying soldiers.

One step, two steps. With each stride, the backdrop of the burning castle scrolled past.

She glanced at the flames, then gave Sevha the answer to his question.

“My father was the same. There was something he wanted. And so he devised a beast’s way to obtain it.”

Elise looked down at her own hand. A sneer touched her lips, directed at her father, or perhaps at someone else.

“A way… no, a tool. I have been nothing but a tool for twelve years. But Sevha?”

Elise raised her head to the sky. It was stained crimson by the fire, yet it was vast and seemed to promise only freedom.

“Even a tool can want something. Something it cannot help but desire, precisely because it is a tool.”

Elise turned completely toward the burning castle, her gaze finding Edgar’s body collapsed in the courtyard below.

Then, her eyes trembled again.

“Because I was not born a tool, there was something I… wanted.”

The trembling in her eyes ceased. Elise closed them for a moment, then snapped them open, taking in the burning castle and the vast sky in a single glance.

An unspeakable tragedy was unfolding below. The sky was an ominous crimson.

Yet Elise, without a shred of hesitation, smiled with bright relief and cried, “And in the end, because I am a tool, there was something I wanted all the more!”

She turned.

Sevha was pulling his knife from the neck of the last soldier. As soon as it was free, he started walking slowly toward her.

His body was a ruin of wounds.

Blood dripped from his eyes, nose, and mouth.

Elise did not flee, even as Sevha approached with the visage of a vengeful wraith.

She simply stood, shameless and proud, and asked, “Do you know the name of what I wanted all the more?”

“An…se.”

“Wrong. It is true I want to take Anse and make it prosper, but that is merely the wrapping for what I truly desire.”

The poison was spreading, and he had lost too much blood. Her words barely registered.

“Yes… you are… wrong.”

And so, holding only to the single-minded will to kill her, he raised his knife. In the next instant, the strength left his legs, and he collapsed to his knees.

Sevha tried to rise, but his legs would not obey, and he fell to his knees again. The knife he held clattered to the ground.

“Elise… Schreier…”

Elise walked over to the kneeling Sevha, gazing down at him.

“Sevha.”

With all his remaining strength, Sevha raised his head to look at her.

“Sevha dan Anse.”

Her expression was one he had never seen, just as he had never heard her use his full name.

Pitiless, heartless, perhaps even wicked.

Seeing the face of a villainess, Sevha realized how he had been deceived.

Blankly, he uttered, “Enter the forests no more… Elise Schreier.”

Elise ignored his words, picked up the knife he had dropped, and knelt before him.

Now they were face to face, their eyes meeting.

Sevha bared his canines. “There is no Hunter left to save you.”

Elise flinched at his curse, then gave a bitter smile.

“That’s right. The Hunters are gone.”

And she slowly pushed the knife into Sevha’s chest.

When the blade was buried to the hilt, he coughed up blood that spattered across her skin.

She stood, half-raised a hand to wipe it away, then stopped. Leaving the blood on her skin, she turned her back and walked away, never looking back, not even to see if he was dead.

The moment Elise left, Sevha pitched forward.

“Elise… Schrei…”

Only breath and blood escaped him now. He coughed a few more times, then his movements ceased, his eyes wide and vacant.

And so the tragedy of Anse Castle became the static backdrop for the unmoving Sevha. The screams from Anse Castle became his only funeral dirge.

A short while later, footsteps approached.

It was the Imperial pharmacist—or perhaps magus—he had met at the fortress. 

Teresse.

As soon as she saw Sevha, Teresse knelt beside him and placed a finger on his neck.

“Foolish girl. What you stole from me wasn’t poison.”

Feeling a faint pulse beneath her fingertip, Teresse smiled softly.

“It was merely a spell of escape I crafted.”

Teresse gently closed Sevha’s vacant, staring eyes. Then she held him tenderly in her arms and leaped from the rampart, down into the spring below.

***

Sevha was alone in a dark place.

Who knew how long he had been there?

An hour? A day? A year?

He spent what felt like both an instant and an eternity in the darkness. Then, in a flash, his vision was flooded with light. The darkness vanished.

He saw the ceiling of a cave. He heard the sound of water dripping from stalactites. Beside him, another sound.

“You’re finally awake.”

Instantly, Sevha moved his aching body like a thunderbolt, his hand clamping around the throat of the person beside him.

He registered her face an instant before he would have broken her neck.

A face that was alluring, yet somehow mischievous. An aura that was both childlike and witch-like.

It was the first time Sevha had seen her face, but he knew at once who she was.

“Teresse.”

“I’d like to say your name, too. Will you let go, Sevha?”

“How do you know my name? Did you know who I was from the start?”

“Hmm… magic.”

When Sevha did not release her, Teresse gestured with her eyes toward his chest.

“Is this how a Hunter of Anse treats the one who saved his life?”

Sevha glanced down and found himself wrapped in bandages. Blood slowly seeped through the dressing on his chest.

The sight proved her words were true.

He didn’t know why she had saved him, but he couldn’t kill his rescuer.

Sevha released her throat and got to his feet.

As he stood, blood dripped from his bandages, but he ignored it and walked toward the cave entrance.

Teresse didn’t try to stop him, simply following behind as she spoke.

“Aren’t you curious? You’re alive because what you drank wasn’t poison. It was a spell that mimics death. That’s why the bleeding was minimal, and why I could save you… You’re not listening, are you?”

When Sevha ignored her, Teresse sighed and asked bluntly, “So? Where are you going?”

Stepping out of the cave, Sevha saw a forest bathed in dawn light and knew at once where he was: a cave near Anse Castle.

He climbed a nearby hill. The moment he reached the top, he saw it all.

The meadow that had been full of flowers was trampled and ruined. Anse Castle was charred black.

And hanging from the ramparts were Marina and the Hunters.

Hanging from the gate was Edgar.

“There is nothing left there for you.”

With Teresse’s pronouncement, tears welled in Sevha’s eyes. Behind the tears, his own were bloodshot.

He opened his mouth as if to vomit up his grief and hatred and made to run. Teresse clamped a hand over his mouth and held him back.

“Let go!”

Sevha shoved her away and tried to run again.

Teresse hit the ground, rolled, and sprang back to her feet, grabbing his wrist. She pulled Sevha toward her with all her strength, and then…

“I said, let—!”

She kissed him.

The utterly unexpected act stopped Sevha cold.

A moment later, Teresse pulled away and licked her lips.

“Making me use a spell I can only cast once in a lifetime. How cruel.”

Teresse giggled, staring at Sevha.

“What happens if you run over there now? You’ll kill a few soldiers, and then you’ll die. Will that satisfy you?”

Sevha opened his mouth as if to argue. Then, because he could not, he closed it.

As his mouth shut, the tears in his eyes trembled.

Teresse thought they were about to fall.

But just before they did, Sevha’s gaze fixed on something at the castle. A flag. No, four flags, each emblazoned with a crest.

A Wild Boar.

A Snake.

A Bear.

A Dragon.

Seeing the banners of Goldas, Chaynebel, Elise, and the Empire, Sevha suddenly recalled his father’s advice.

Do not take your first chance from a distance. Take it in your prey’s face.

Sevha knew at once why he had remembered this.

Because he had something to hunt.

Sevha looked toward his new prey.

Their faces were not visible; all he could see was the black smoke rising from Anse Castle.

The sight told him how far he was from his quarry. And so, he wiped away his tears.

Then he recalled his father’s second piece of advice.

Do not wait for a second chance. Create the first one again.

Sevha touched the wound on his chest, the one Elise had given him.

The moment he did, a searing pain shot through him.

That pain was a reminder: he had missed his first chance.

And so, his eyes sharpened as he recalled his father’s final piece of advice.

If you find yourself in a situation where you must recall the third lesson… Sevha. Stake your life on that hunt.

Sevha turned to Teresse. He perfectly concealed his sorrow and asked coldly, “Why did you save me?”

What Teresse saw was impossibly cold—the face of a hunter.

To see him transform into something so unexpected, something even a magus had not foreseen, was utterly delightful. She smiled brightly.

Arms spread wide, she cried out, “I have a dream!”

Sevha was suddenly reminded of Elise. He recalled her words.

There was something I wanted all the more!

“What… dream?”

“That’s a secret, for now.”

As if to give him no chance to press further, Teresse stepped close to him.

“This is all I can tell you right now. Let’s make a promise… a contract. That we will grant each other’s wishes.”

Sevha shoved her away without a word. Teresse tumbled to the ground and looked at him as if to say he was being cruel.

But Sevha didn’t even glance at her. He stared only at the banners of his enemies at the castle, then spoke.

“I have a hunt to finish, even if my life’s the price.”

Sevha turned to Teresse.

“I don’t trust you. I don’t even know what you are. And I won’t rely on you. But if you can be useful in my hunt… I will grant your wish.”

Teresse got to her feet. She smiled as brightly as a child who was finally going on a long-awaited picnic.

Then, in the alluring voice of a witch offering a poisoned apple, she declared, “The contract is made.”

With that, Teresse turned toward the Frost Mountains and winked at Sevha.

“Shall we go, then?”

“Where?”

“We have to escape Anse before the Imperial Army finds out you’re alive.”

Then, Sevha remembered Edgar’s dream. He slowly lifted his head to the dawn sky.

Its bluish hue looked desolate, yet its clarity seemed to announce the start of a new day.

Looking at that clear, cold light, Sevha answered, “Let’s go. Out of Anse.”

A young hawk, having just shed the last of its fledgling down, soared across the dawn sky, flying toward the Frost Mountains.