*Janus*
The hunt began not long after Ruby slipped away. I’d secretly hoped she might ride with us, or at least linger at the edge of the woods like the other noble women, but I suppose hunting never called to her. The forest was soon crawling with men, dogs, and horses, their noise scattering every timid creature before them. My brothers and I chose to walk, our boots muffled by moss and fallen leaves, hoping to move quietly enough to let the world breathe again. It took a while, but eventually, the hush returned—birds dared to sing, and I caught glimpses of small animals darting across the path. Still, the Reineke eluded us. I led the way, Joel’s steady presence just behind me, Avarel in the middle smiling like a little boy, and the twins trailing at the rear, our little group strung out like beads on a thread.
Most years, Joel would have gone his own way, but this time he stayed with us, and I found myself quietly grateful. With Joel, it always felt like nothing could slip past us—if only we could find that sly Reineke. He’d always been the best at this, his trophies stretching on and on, but those hunts were never about one clever, elusive target. Hours slipped by, the forest offering up deer, hares, even a few startled pheasants, but not a single sign of the Reineke. Not even a fox. We wandered further than I’d meant to, the world narrowing to the crunch of leaves and the soft hush of our breath, until a scream tore through the quiet from somewhere to the east. It was sharp and sudden, ending too soon. The birds fell silent, and the forest itself seemed to freeze, as if it too was holding its breath, waiting for something terrible to arrive.
We froze, hearts thudding in our chests, searching the shadows for any hint of what had happened. Was it a stray arrow, or something far worse slipping through the trees? The wind picked up, threading through the branches with a sharp, restless edge, and none of us dared to speak. A chill crept over my skin, fear curling in my stomach, ancient and nameless. Then, as if the world itself was unraveling, a great column of dust twisted up through the treetops, clawing at the sky not far from where we stood. More screams followed, echoing through the woods, and the very air started to smell of something dreadful, like an ancient fear long forgotten by humankind.
Then, with terrible certainty, it turned toward us. Panic seized us, and we ran, stumbling through roots and brambles as the storm bore down behind us. I kept hoping we could outrun it, but every time we changed direction, it seemed to twist and follow, relentless as fate. Out of nowhere, two small hooded figures darted past, faster than the wind itself, one clutching something that glinted—something metal. The storm pressed closer, and in that moment, I understood what we were truly running from: a Wind Spirit, not just any, a mid-level wind spirit ready to tear us all apart.
It looked almost like a boy, no older than ten, his body half-transparent, features soft but empty of life. He drifted above the ground, unashamed and unhidden, and though his face was blank, I could feel the fury radiating from him, wild and raw. His skin shimmered with a greenish tint, matching the pale, uneven cut of his hair, but his eyes were the worst—black, swirling voids that seemed to swallow the light. He searched the forest with frantic, restless movements, as if desperate to find something he’d lost.
Everywhere he passed, the world was torn open—a hollow, perfect wound carved through the forest, earth and branches and ancient trunks all shredded as if they were nothing. We ran, dodging flying splinters, choking on dust, avoiding falling trees, but the spirit was faster, the storm closing in until I could feel the wind clawing at William’s boots. Something inside me snapped, and I stopped running. My hand found my sword, and I turned to face the storm, heart pounding with fear and something like defiance.
“Are you crazy?!”
“Janus, run!”
Jack and Avarel looked at me as if I’d lost my mind, while William remained silent and revealed nothing. No one, not even Father, could stand alone against a spirit like this. Maybe I’d have better luck with a dragon—at least dragons sometimes listened. But here I was, planting my feet and choosing to face the impossible, because running felt even worse.
“Keep running; I will hold…”
I barely got the words out before an arrow streaked past, trailing blue sparks of mana as it tore through the spirit’s form and vanished into the trees. For a heartbeat, a gaping wound split the spirit’s body, and hope fluttered in my chest—only to die as the wound sealed itself, leaving nothing but disappointment in its place. I didn’t notice then, but the wind had softened, just a little.
“Stop playing the hero, dumbass.”
For the first time in what felt like forever, my brothers and I stood together, side by side, facing something we could barely understand. A foolish hope flickered inside me: they were here, and I wasn’t alone. I just wished it didn’t feel so hopeless.
