An Outcast Among Outcasts
Psyriya reached behind her back and quietly unstrapped her bow. A few strides away, a fully-grown stag was cautiously walking across the moonlit grass. Like the huntress who stalked him, every movement that he made was both graceful and efficient. He would make a noteworthy prize; not only was he beautiful in his own right, he had also managed to elude every hunter who set out to claim him. She admired the beast’s natural magnificence, but she knew that there would be no shame in killing him. Hunting to feed others was considered noble, though hunting for the spirit was sacred. To Psyriya, this struggle was life in its purest form. Outside the cavern walls of Northimar, a single law ruled over the forest: only the strong survive.
Drawing an arrow from her quiver, she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Even after years of training her mind to focus on her prey and nothing else, she sometimes indulged in the primal excitement. Her hands shook slightly as she pulled the arrow back. The stag continued walking forward, unaware of the silver point that trailed the base of his neck. Neither of them were strangers to this game. Hit or miss, there would only be one shot. Days upon days of preparation culminated in a single second, and Psyriya thrived on it. The thrill of the hunt was both invigorating and intoxicating.
Unable to withstand the anticipation any longer, she let go. At that moment, the forest exploded with noise. The familiar twang of her bow was drowned out by a somber, booming note. Psyriya watched in shock as her prize fled into the night, and her arrow hurtled through empty air. Her quarry had escaped. The moment was lost.
Before the crushing pain of defeat set in, she quickly strapped her bow and took off running in the opposite direction. There was only one sound that she found more satisfying than the last breath of her prey, and it continued to ring in her ears long after it had faded away. Once she chose a target and left civilization behind, only Rhapsody Edge’s song could lure her down from the treetops. She anxiously raced toward the source of the disturbance; the Shadows strictly limited Kei’s visits, so she did not want to keep him waiting.
Pinpointing his location, Psyriya burst into the clearing with her arms wide open. Rhapsody Edge still hummed quietly as Kei returned it to its sheath, the base of its exquisite green blade glimmering in the moonlight. She only took one step toward embracing Kei before skidding to an abrupt stop. The man whom she admired and adored, her sole reason for returning to Northimar, was unhappy to see her. He was always lost in his own thoughts, but usually the edges of his frown would soften ever so slightly when he saw her. The anger and sadness that she had come to know so well had been replaced by frustration.
Just as her heart began to sink, she noticed the man at Kei’s side and it plummeted. Even without the traditional robe of the Elders, she could have recognized the cane in his hands and the smirk on his face from the treetops.
“C-Calrion, what are you doing here?” she stammered while nervously withdrawing her arms. “It is not safe out here in the forest!”
“How sweet of you to be so concerned for little old me,” Calrion replied, his words dripping with sarcasm. “If only the rest of your generation shared your talent and compassion.”
Unwilling to grant Calrion the satisfaction of upsetting her, Psyriya turned to Kei for comfort and managed to ask, “Kei…why?”
Kei grunted and shuffled through his pack. “I don’t care for this news any more than you do. Your brother ordered me to escort this miserable wretch and specifically assigned you to guide us. Apparently we are taking him to a diplomatic meeting with the Sorians.”
“Noctilon…wants me to go with him?” Psyriya squeaked. “I don’t understand…”
Calrion snickered and said, “That brat is probably tired of you sulking in his shadow. By my guess, he is trying to show us that you are actually worthy of your position in the Covenant. If that was not enough, you also get the privilege of meeting the Empire’s esteemed politicians! Isn’t this just delightful?”
Kei pulled out a letter from his pack and handed it to Psyriya. “Ignore him. The Oracle chose you because he trusts you, not because of your blood. I trust you too, Psyriya. You are the best tracker that the Brethren have to offer. The only question is how fast you can get us there.”
Psyriya’s heart skipped a beat; Kei’s praise was a rare blessing. With a fraction of her confidence restored, she nodded and began reading the letter. Having spent her entire life in either an underground city or a secluded forest, she had never seen anything like the fine lavender ink that whimsically danced across the parchment. Once she reached the directions, a stifled gasp escaped from her lips. Looking back up at Kei, she asked, “Where did you get this from?”
“Noctilon said that the letter came from the Unseen Consortium,” Kei said. “It was written by Agent Four, another of their members. Apparently they have decided to dabble in politics as well.”
Walking up to Kei, Psyriya leaned in and whispered in his ear. “We need to be very careful. These directions are extremely precise…too precise. They are written in a system known only to the Brethren’s hunters. There is no way he…”
Psyriya was interrupted by an intentionally audible cough. “You should know that it is impolite to whisper in front of others,” Calrion complained. “Confess your undying love on your own time. The sooner we get there, the sooner I can rid myself of you two.”
Kei pulled away from Psyriya and said, “The feeling is mutual. I am sure that our guide will do a fantastic job. Just try not to slow us down too much.”
Even though she despised the prospect of traveling with Calrion, Psyriya enthusiastically ran ahead to begin leading the way. She had long ago given up on trying to prove herself to the Elders, but Kei was another matter entirely. Now that he was relying on her, failure was not an option.
Reflections – Hunters
“Only the strongest survive. The mighty eat, and the weak are eaten. In this way the hunter is king, he who would prove that he can best the world he was born into. They are driven by hunger: to eat, to feel the thrill of the hunt, and to be in control. But as they chase their prey, they also run from their predator. There is always something bigger, something beyond their grasp, and so the world puts them in their place.”