Chapter 5 – The Hunt Begins
The Pride Circle stirred long before the sun crested the horizon. The air was cool, heavy with the scent of ash and wild grass. Warriors moved like shadows through the camp, sharpening weapons, checking harnesses, calling softly to one another in the guttural tongue of beasts. Above us, the cliffs glowed faintly red where fires still burned from the night.
I stood near our tent, trying to quiet my pulse. Luka was crouched beside the fire, cleaning his twin blades with calm, unhurried motions. Nox was nowhere in sight, though I could feel his presence somewhere close—the weight of it pressed against the edge of my senses like a lion pacing unseen in tall grass.
"You've never hunted a crystal beast before, have you?" Luka asked without looking up.
"I've barely hunted rabbits in this body," I admitted. "What do I need to know?"
He smiled faintly, but his tone was serious. "Crystal beasts don't die easily. Their hearts turn to stone over decades. You have to strike deep, break the crystal core before it shatters you. And they're… unpredictable. Some still remember what they were before the corruption."
"Beasts that learned to hate," I murmured.
Luka nodded. "Exactly."
He tossed me a curved blade. I caught it awkwardly, the hilt warm from his hand. "This is lighter than Nox's weapons," I said.
"Because you'll need speed, not brute force. Let Nox deal with the killing blow. You focus on surviving."
I arched a brow. "Not much faith in me, wolf?"
He finally looked up, a spark of amusement in his silver eyes. "More faith than sense, maybe. You remind me of someone who always runs straight toward danger."
"And who's that?"
He only grinned. "Me."
Before I could reply, the ground trembled—a deep, rhythmic thud that made the dust dance around our feet. Nox emerged from the lower caves, half-morphed, mane flaring with sunlight. He wore no armor, only leather straps across his chest, and each movement rippled with coiled strength. Behind him came a handful of warriors: tigers, leopards, and a single fox with russet ears that flicked toward me before he spoke.
"So this is the lioness everyone's whispering about," the fox said, smiling like mischief given form. "Chyron, fifth scout of the eastern ridges."
His golden eyes glimmered, sharp and assessing. He circled me once, tail swishing, then offered a half bow. "You've got spirit. Try not to lose it out there."
"Try not to trip over your tail," I shot back. Luka's quiet laugh from behind me earned me a sideways glare from the fox.
Nox's voice cut through the moment, low and commanding. "Enough. We move when the second horn sounds. The beast was last seen near the Whispering Rocks. Its scent is strong—green crystal, high concentration. Be ready for resistance."
He looked at me then, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. "You'll stay near me."
"I can handle myself," I said.
"I'm not questioning your claws, Maise," he replied evenly. "But until you learn the way we hunt, you'll follow my lead."
The others moved to gather supplies—packs of dried meat, skins of water, bundles of rope and spears tipped with obsidian. I watched them, struck again by how coordinated they were. Even their silences had rhythm. The males of the Pride Circle weren't wild; they were trained, disciplined, the very definition of order within chaos.
When I stepped aside to adjust my weapon, Chyron's voice drifted near. "He's protective of you already. Nox doesn't guard what he doesn't intend to keep."
I turned slowly. "You assume too much."
"Maybe." His smile was thin. "Or maybe I've seen enough battles to recognize when a male is already circling what he wants."
The horn sounded once—long, deep, echoing through the cliffs. Luka and the others began to shift, their bodies flowing into half forms as naturally as breathing. Fur rippled over skin, claws extending, eyes flaring with unnatural color. The sound of it—the stretch of sinew, the low growl in the air—was both terrifying and beautiful.
My own body responded before I even thought about it. Heat ran down my spine, fur breaking through skin, my senses sharpening until I could taste the metallic scent of the morning wind. The transformation was effortless, instinctive. I flexed my hands, claws catching light, and breathed in the wildness that was now part of me.
Nox approached then, towering and golden, his mane bright against the rising sun. "Stay close," he said. "If you stray too far, you won't make it back."
I met his gaze, refusing to look away. "Then don't fall behind."
A flash of teeth—half a smile, half a warning. "You're reckless."
"And you like it," I said before I could stop myself.
For a moment, his expression softened. Then he turned away, and the second horn split the air.
We moved as one into the open plains. The grass whispered against our legs, and the wind carried the scent of crystal and danger. Luka ranged to my right, Chyron to my left, their movements in perfect sync with Nox's stride. Ahead, the world shimmered with heat and promise—the kind that could kill or crown you.
Somewhere beyond the horizon, a beast waited with a heart of green stone.