A Hunt for Purpose

The sun had climbed high in the sky, and Nerion, now 15, was no closer to proving himself. It was the same old feeling. Nothing had changed in the past years, and every day felt like a reminder of his uselessness. He was still the same boy, the one who couldn't do what his family asked. Not like Kaelen, his younger brother, who could already do things with ease that Nerion struggled with.

This morning, his mother had asked Kaelen to hunt a deer for lunch. Kaelen, with his dark powers and uncanny strength, was always the first choice. Nerion had never been asked for such tasks—after all, what use was he? He had no magic, no strength, no extraordinary gift.

But this time, something inside him snapped. He had been quiet for so long, sitting back and watching as his family adored Kaelen, as the villagers praised him. He wanted to prove that he could do something, anything. He could be more than just the boy without a gift.

"Why can't I do it?" Nerion's voice surprised even him. He stood there, awkwardly facing his mother and brother. "I want to go hunt a deer."

His mother glanced at Kaelen, then back at him. There was a moment of hesitation, but then she sighed, shaking her head. "You have no powers, Nerion. What will you do with a bow?" she asked softly.

"Just give me a chance," Nerion replied, his voice firmer than he felt.

She sighed again, giving in. "Fine. Take the bow, but be careful."

Kaelen didn't say a word, but the glance he gave Nerion spoke volumes. It was as if he was silently questioning Nerion's ability. But Nerion didn't care. This was his chance.

Nerion grabbed a bow and strapped a quiver to his back. He was skilled with the bow, though no one had ever paid much attention to his practice. He had spent hours alone, shooting at targets, learning to perfect his aim. It wasn't magic, but it was something. Something he could call his own.

The forest was quiet, the morning air crisp against his skin as he ventured deep into the trees. His thoughts kept drifting back to his family. Why did they always favor Kaelen? What made him so special? Kaelen had strength, power, magic. What did Nerion have? Nothing. He was just Nerion—the boy who couldn't do anything right.

His stomach twisted with frustration, and for a moment, he wondered if his family ever truly saw him for who he was.

After an hour of searching with no luck, Nerion's frustration grew. He should've been hunting by now, bringing back the food for his family. But instead, he found a quiet spot by a tree, his shoulders heavy with the weight of failure. His mind kept replaying the same thoughts—Why couldn't he do it? Why was Kaelen always the one chosen?

He sat against the tree and closed his eyes, just for a moment. Maybe he would be able to gather himself, think of something better.

But sleep took him before he could make sense of his thoughts. He fell into a deep, heavy slumber.

When he woke, the world around him was darker than before. The sun was no longer shining brightly, and the cool shadows of nightfall began to creep in. He jumped up, his heart racing. "Shit!" he muttered under his breath. He had slept too long. His mother would be angry. He hadn't even gotten a deer.

He grabbed his bow and started walking quickly, hoping to return home without drawing attention to his failure. Maybe Kaelen had caught the deer. Maybe it would be fine.

But just as he turned around a cluster of trees, he froze.

Something was wrong.

A man—no, something darker—stood in front of him. His eyes were like ice, cold and unnerving. His skin was pale, almost translucent, with sharp, angular features. A vampire.

Nerion's heart skipped a beat. He was terrified. For the first time, he wasn't thinking about impressing his family or his village. All that ran through his mind was pure survival.

His hand flew to the sword at his side, and with trembling fingers, he drew it. But the fear, the terror of the situation, gripped him hard. His breath came in shallow gasps.

The vampire smiled cruelly. "Pathetic mortal," it sneered. "You can't even fight for your life."

Nerion barely registered the words. The vampire's voice was like a whisper of death, and all he could think about was surviving. He ran at the vampire, sword raised high. Each swing felt weak, his body trembling with the adrenaline, but the vampire dodged every blow like Nerion was moving in slow motion.

"Why is this happening to me?" Nerion thought, his sword meeting air again. He was no warrior. He was just a boy.

The vampire swiped at him, sending Nerion flying back with a single, powerful blow. Pain exploded in his chest, and he gasped, struggling to get up. He was no match for the vampire, no matter how hard he tried.

He stumbled, his mind racing. This wasn't a fight he could win.

Throwing his sword aside in desperation, he turned and fled. The vampire watched him run with amusement, then began chasing him, faster than Nerion had ever seen anyone move. Nerion's heart pounded in his chest. His legs burned as he pushed himself harder, zigzagging between the trees in an attempt to confuse the vampire. He didn't know if it would work, but it was all he had.

He heard the vampire's footsteps closing in behind him, faster and faster. Nerion stumbled, his foot catching on a rock. He fell hard, rolling over the edge of a hill.

Everything became a blur. He found himself tumbling uncontrollably, his body bouncing off rocks and trees, his thoughts too scrambled to focus. He couldn't stop. He didn't know how to stop.

As the ground below him seemed to fall away, Nerion told himself that this was it. There was no way out. He was going to die. But somehow, his body kept moving, instinctually finding the way.

He rolled down the hill, faster and faster, until everything went black.