Seren Velyx's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

The blood trail led over the ridge into ground none of them had walked. Seren Velyx followed it into a wide flat of frost-dusted grass, blades glowing faintly from within. The wounded Gloomstalker had stopped there. It stood in the open, sides heaving, dark ichor dripping from its shoulder. The green poison was in its blood, but slow. It was hurt. It was not dying fast enough. Seren stopped at the edge of the frost patch. There was no tree to climb, no rock to stand behind. Just open ground and a bleeding predator that could still charge. Seren's spear reached only an arm's length. If the beast turned, it would close the gap before the poison ever finished the work. Sivara Frostwhisper knelt low beside Seren. She had killed the massive glowing spider with them on the western tundra, and Seren trusted her steady hands more than most. She pulled a carved blowgun from her back, bone charms swinging, and slid a dart from a fur-lined bag. "It will charge the moment it sees you move," she said. "Don't move." Veyla Shadewhisper came up on the far side, bow low, saying nothing. Her ears did the work her eyes would not. "It hears us," she whispered. "It knows we are three." "Then it dies from range," Sivara said. She twisted the dart tip into a tiny cluster of green mushrooms in a sealed cup, the same cruel poison already burning in the beast. Yellow-flecked caps glowed against her fingers. She measured the dose by eye. "One more. Between the ribs. The heart side." The Gloomstalker lifted its head. Its dark eyes found Seren's dim glow across the grass. Muscles bunched. It gathered to charge. "Now," Seren said, and stood. They raised the spear high and stepped sideways, dragging the beast's eyes onto their own body. It coiled toward Seren, teeth wide. Sivara breathed out through the blowgun. The dart crossed the frost patch and struck deep behind the foreleg. Veyla's arrow followed in the same breath, sinking into the throat. The Gloomstalker took two lunging steps toward Seren, then folded. Its legs gave. It hit the glowing grass and slid, and the huge body went still. Frost settled on its open eye. Seren stood over it, spear still raised, breath ragged. The beast that had haunted these hunting grounds for generations was dead. Their hand shook. They lowered the spear. Sivara nudged the carcass with her foot. Then she crouched and looked at the gray streaks running through its gums, the same sick color spreading through the forest's dying ground. "This one was starving," she said. "Look. The rot is inside it too." Veyla knelt beside her and went very quiet. "Then it was not the cause," she said. "It was fleeing the same thing we are." The kill was won. But the sickness that drove the beast here was still spreading, and now it had a name none of them could fight with a spear.