hawks of failure.
Remaining Hunters: 7
"They left the hearts," Tarn muttered as he stared at the dried pool of blackened blood. "That wasn't an animal. Animals don't show respect."
The corpse of Reece, marked with a scar and split open like fruit, lay cold and stiff on the forest floor.
His chest had been ripped open, and his organs were missing.
But his heart was untouched.
It was left on purpose.
Tarn rose slowly, brushing his fingers over the wound. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were hard.
"Send the hawks," he said. "Now."
Two men, Vex and Narro, archers with sharp eyes and even sharper tongues, nodded and vanished into the trees like smoke.
---
Corren, nestled in a low ridge of moss and stone…
He heard them long before he saw them.
Boots too heavy that made too much noise.
Voices were too loud. Human clumsiness tried to mimic the grace of predators.
It was pathetic.
His heart had raced since the kill.
Not because of guilt.
But because of anticipation.
"You sent two to hunt me?" he whispered to the forest, smirking. "I'm honored."
He didn't know their names.
He didn't care.
Soon, they would be just bodies.
---
The sun hung low, casting long shadows. Corren had led them deep into the Elavari's hunting grounds, where trees grew close and bark oozed sap like open wounds.
He crouched behind a ridge and quietly coiled the Reaper's chain. The scythe rested some distance back, hidden in a shallow pit, waiting for the right moment.
He had planted it on purpose.
A trap.
A tether.
A test.
But then—
Snap.
A twig snapped behind him.
Too close.
Corren turned just in time to see the arrow flying.
Thwip!
He ducked.
The arrow hit the bark just inches from his head.
Another came.
Closer.
"Shit. They're flanking me."
He sprinted sideways, zig-zagging through roots and fallen branches, thorns scratching his face. Arrows rained around him like iron hail.
They were good.
Too good.
He was losing ground. The Reaper was behind him now—too far to reach.
---
He hit the ground and slid behind a log. Breathing heavily. Mind racing.
He had two choices:
1. Run.
2. Die.
But Elavari don't run.
Not from prey.
---
Corren reached down and grabbed the Reaper's chain, still wrapped around his waist like a steel serpent. He quickly unraveled it, fingers skilled from nights of ritual.
He couldn't wield the scythe as he usually would.
But the chain was still connected. Still humming with that strange, violent energy from the heart shards.
He coiled it like a whip.
And hurled it.
---
Vex peeked out from behind a tree, smirking, nocking another arrow. "Got you now, you little—"
CLANG.
The chain slammed into his face like a cannonball, shattering teeth and bone, yanking his body forward violently.
He didn't scream.
He didn't get the chance.
Narro gasped and turned toward the sound—
That was his mistake.
Corren lunged, knife in hand—black, slick, alive with warmth. He drove it into Narro's gut and twisted.
"You should've aimed for the heart."
Narro collapsed, gurgling and bleeding.
Corren stood above him, face cold.
Not angry.
Just done.
He didn't eat.
Not yet.
There were still others.
---
Corren walked back through the trees. Quiet. Exhausted. Alive.
The chain dragged behind him like a shadow.
"Seven became five."
He was smiling.
He didn't notice.
But something was starting to change in him. Something dangerous.