Chapter 18

Long, long ago, when the world was younger and the deep darkness of the age before had not been forgotten, there was a young hunter.

The hunter was a fine hunter, strong and fast. The tales of his kills were legendary, and he was very much admired by his people. But he had yet to pass his spirit trial, an ancient tradition to prove one's worth to the forest. When a hunter reached the age of maturity, sometimes eleven, sometimes twelve years old, they were sent out into nature, unarmed, to meditate and survive alone for three days. Those that returned were deemed to be in harmony with Callaphria and were considered an adult.

When the time had come for the hunter's trial, the people gathered to celebrate and offer strength to his journey, for he was much beloved.

On the day he was to set forth, the hunter's mother clutched him to her breast knowing it was the last time she would hold her child. If he succeeded, he would return a man; if he failed, he would not return at all.

“Tell me the four laws of the wild,” she begged.

“First,” the hunter recited dutifully, “the forest is within us as we are within the forest. To conquer the wild, we must have a strong will and burn away our doubts.

Second, water is the source of all life. The great mother. If we bless and respect her, she will provide.

Third, there is a fine division between the beast and the Livarian. Beasts are fierce, but Livarian are fiercer. Speed and strength will only succeed if we also use our wit.”

“And the fourth?” his mother asked.

“Fourth, avoid the demons. If they cannot be avoided, destroy them, but never, ever, bring them home.”

His mother nodded, satisfied that the hunter was ready. She pressed a single carving into his palm, for the hunter was allowed no weapons to aid his quest. For the last time, the hunter said goodbye to his mother and fled deep into the forest.

On the first day, the hunter established a camp near the river, for he was clever and quick. He fashioned a spear for himself out of a Tinaka branch and procured three fish, then he sat next to his fire to meditate.

That evening, a beast approached, its eyes glowing in the dark beyond the hunter's fire.

“Young hunter, I see you have an abundance of food. Spare me a fish and I will guard your camp for the night that you might rest.”

“Go away,” replied the hunter, “for I know what you are.”

The beast, who was really a demon in disguise, roared, but did not dare enter the fire's light. The hunter lay awake listening to the creature prowl the nearby forest.

The second day, the warrior pulled vines and bark from the Yishi tree. He fashioned a snare and his trap was once again successful, as he caught three Pharthus.

That night, the demon returned to the campfire.

“Share with me your bounty and I will see to it that you return to your village with the most majestic kill. You will become the highest of your people.”

Again, the hunter refused, sending the demon on its way, but he knew it wouldn't go far and kept the fire burning bright all night.

On the third day, the warrior was exhausted. He had not slept at all, since he could not allow himself to be vulnerable to the demon.

“Come, little hunter,” the demon persuaded from the forest shadows. “Let me at least guide you home, so that you might rest now that your trial is over.”

It was then that the hunter knew it was his end. He could not lead the demon back to his people and he was too weak and exhausted from his trials to fight the demon. The only saving course of action was to use his wit.

“Yes,” the hunter sighed at last, “come and help me return to my people.”

With the hunter's invitation, the demon appeared, not as a beast this time, but as a friend, as much a man as the hunter. The demon picked up the hunter and carried him forward, but when he made to turn toward the village the hunter stopped him.

“Turn here, toward the river,” the hunter directed.

“But the village is opposite this.”

“Yes,” the hunter agreed, “but I must return bearing the life of the forest. We must gather water from mother river.”

The demon carried the hunter back toward the river, though it was a long distance by then. The hunter gathered water into a pouch he had formed with a Yishi leaf.

“Now we will go to your village,” the demon said.

“First,” the hunter dissuaded, “we must gather the fur of the Bok-thaha, to prove that I am as fierce as the most feared beast of the forest.”

The demon relented and carried the hunter south until they found the den of the Bok-thaha. The demon made short work of the beast and when they had gathered its pelt, it spoke.

“At last we will return to your people.”

“Yes,” said the hunter, pulling out the carving his mother had given him, “at last.”

The demon growled upon seeing the carving. What had appeared to be smooth wood began to glow and change. The creature howled, realizing that it had been tricked. The carving was no simple trinket, but a key to the underworld where the demon had come from. The hunter plunged the key into the heart of the demon, who was weak from carrying the hunter and fighting the Bok-thaha. He opened the door to the realm, plunging the demon through, knowing it would drag him through, as well.

However, at the last minute, the hunter found his strength and broke free of the demon, though the creature left its claws embedded in his skin. He leapt away from the demon just as the door to the underworld slammed closed, trapping the beast forever. From then on, forever more, the hunter had long jagged stripes where the demon's claws had marked him.

When the hunter returned to the people with the tale of the vanquished, demon he became the village's hero. The demon of the forest had plagued them for a very long time. They rewarded him by gracing him with the highest honor. And that, is how Callaphria earned its first king.

The folktale played over and over in Mia's mind as she explored the edges of the compound the next day. It held many of the elements that Earth's folktales did. Three warnings, three chances, and a hero that overcame them through wit, rather than bravery or strength.

Still, it had mentioned a door, and she was certain that it wasn't a coincidence that the Earth women had been brought through a door.

Against her better judgment, the beauty of this world, the intrigue of its people, drew her in. How many people got a chance to see and learn about an entirely new world?

Even still, something was wrong.

She glanced ahead, the same buildings she had passed three times already waited, the barrier several feet away, flickering randomly with sparks of light.

She sighed. She was pacing again, like some sort of caged animal. Twenty days. Twenty days had passed since she had been stolen from Earth. What were they doing to find her? Were there messages about her status on Facebook? A segment on the evening news? Or had everyone forgotten about her already? The girl who didn't exist.

It was getting hard to drag herself out of bed, and she knew, somewhere in her mind, that she was sinking into a depression. There was little else to do, little else to think about other than her life and what she was missing.

So immersed was she in her moping that she jumped when Morkuth strode out from between the buildings in front of her.

“Mia,” he bowed slightly, “come with me.”

“Why? What are we doing?” she wondered.

“The prime has requested your presence. That is all I know.”

Curious, Mia followed him toward the house where she had met Draven the first time. Their route took them past the dormitory. She glanced up at the windows, a small amount of guilt tugging at her, as if she were waiting to be judged for her actions.

Stupid. What did Leanne's words matter anyway?

Draven paced in the common room, his back to them as they entered, a black t-shirt stark against his skin, and similar black pants showing off his toned backside. He seemed immersed in some paper in his hands, giving Mia a long moment for her perusal.

Morkuth cleared his throat.

Draven turned slowly, a tilting of his lips showing he knew they had been there and knew where her attention had been drawn.

“Thank you, Morkuth,” he drawled, his eyes not leaving Mia.

Morkuth left without another word and then she was alone with the prime.

She gathered herself and tilted her head.

“Was there something you needed?”

A secret heat lit behind his eyes and she regretted her wording immediately. Men. He stalked toward her and it took a great deal of fortitude not to back away and run out the door. Her heart thundered in her ears and her body felt suddenly intolerably tense.

In the end, though, he walked by her, taking a left into the hall deeper into the house.

“Come,” he beckoned.