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Chapter 123: A Hunter Becomes the Hunted
Chapter 123: A Hunter Becomes the Hunted
A Warning from the Ravens
The night was still when Seraphis stood once more beneath the open sky, listening.
The distant flutter of wings approached from the darkness, and soon, the familiar black figures of her ravens descended around her. Their beady eyes glowed faintly in the moonlight, their bodies sleek and silent as they perched along the stone railing.
One raven, larger than the rest, hopped forward and let out a deep, guttural caw.
Seraphis understood.
Allen the Cannibal had begun his move.
He was in the forest, far to the east, his presence like a spreading plague in the land. He moved carefully, avoiding roads, keeping to the shadows—hunting them.
But he was a fool.
They would strike first.
Seraphis turned back toward the castle, her white hair catching the moonlight as she stepped inside.
“We move now.”
The Flight of the Ravens
Elowen, Sylvaine, and Theia were waiting, already armed and ready for war. No words were needed. They had been preparing for this moment.
Seraphis extended her arms, her body shifting. Her form blurred, twisted, and in an instant, where she had stood, a great white raven now took her place.
Elowen followed. Her transformation was smooth—her body folding into a sleek, black raven, her dark wings stretching wide.
Sylvaine and Theia were the last, their forms shifting effortlessly into the night.
And then—they took flight.
The sky was endless, the wind crisp against their wings as they soared high above the land. Below, the forests stretched like an ocean of trees, their dark canopies swaying.
For a full day and night, they flew without pause, their avian forms carrying them with inhuman speed.
At dawn on the second day, they saw him.
The Monster in the Forest
Allen the Cannibal stood alone in a clearing, the dense forest surrounding him like a wall of green and shadow.
He was taller than any normal man, his skin pale and stretched, his body laced with scars. His arms were thick with unnatural muscle, his fingers ending in gleaming metal claws.
His face was twisted in hunger.
Bones littered the ground around him. Some were old, bleached by time. Others were fresh—too fresh.
And at his feet, a half-eaten corpse lay sprawled, its ribcage torn open.
Seraphis’s sharp eyes narrowed.
Elowen let out a low caw—the signal.
And then—
They descended.
The Battle Begins
Their bodies shifted mid-air, returning to their humanoid forms just as they landed, weapons already drawn.
Allen barely had time to react before Seraphis was upon him.
Her dagger flashed, aiming for his throat.
CLANG!
His metallic fingers shot up, catching the blade between them with inhuman reflexes. His grin widened, revealing rows of jagged teeth.
“The White Raven herself,” he rasped, his voice like grinding bones. “I was hoping you'd come.”
With unnatural strength, he swung his arm, sending Seraphis hurtling backward.
But before he could press the attack, Sylvaine and Elowen struck.
Sylvaine’s twin daggers came from opposite sides, their edges gleaming.
Allen spun, blocking one with his arm, but the second dagger sank into his ribs.
He grunted—but did not bleed.
Elowen’s blade followed, slashing across his chest in a streak of silver.
This time, blood flowed—but Allen only laughed.
“Good,” he growled. “Fight harder. I like my meals seasoned.”
And then he moved.
The Cost of the Hunt
Allen was fast.
Faster than any of them had anticipated.
His metal claws whipped through the air, tearing into Theia’s shoulder before she could dodge. Blood splattered across the ground.
Elowen struck again—but Allen caught her wrist and twisted.
A sickening crack. She cried out in pain.
Seraphis lunged low, slicing at the tendons behind his knees. This time, he staggered.
Sylvaine used the opening, driving her dagger straight into his side.
Allen roared, his laughter finally stopping as his rage took over.
His claws swung wildly—Seraphis ducked, just barely avoiding a fatal strike.
But his next blow landed.
A backhand strike sent her flying into a tree, her vision blurring as she hit the ground hard.
Pain lanced through her ribs—at least two broken.
But she forced herself to move.
This wasn’t over.
The Execution of a Cannibal
They were bleeding, battered, and bruised. But Allen was weakening.
His movements were slower now. His breaths came ragged. His unnatural regeneration was failing.
Seraphis wiped blood from her lip and locked eyes with Theia.
Theia nodded.
Together, they moved.
Theia grabbed his arm, twisting it behind him. Seraphis’s dagger sank into his wrist, severing tendons.
Elowen, despite her broken wrist, drove her blade into his other arm.
And Sylvaine—she aimed for his throat.
Her dagger sank deep, severing muscle, tendon, bone.
Allen’s laughter turned into a gurgle.
His eyes widened.
And then—
His head fell from his shoulders.
His body collapsed, twitching, blood soaking the earth beneath them.
But they weren’t done.
A Message to the Ivory Tower
Sylvaine knelt, her breath heavy. “We take his hands.”
Elowen, despite her injury, used her good hand to pry open his fingers.
A small, metal capsule was hidden within his palm.
Seraphis took it, cracking it open—inside was a parchment.
She read it, her expression darkening.
“They sent him to weaken us before the real attack.”
Theia exhaled sharply. “Then we send them a message.”
Together, they worked.
Allen’s decapitated head was placed on a silver platter, his hands beside it.
They wrapped it carefully, sealing it with black wax—the symbol of the White Raven imprinted upon it.
And then, they sent it to the Ivory Tower.
A warning.
A declaration.
A promise.
They were coming.