Lou leads the way, our procession following his body to Mortifer.
Hunters from all over Goreon—Northern, Eastern, and Western outfits—are all traveling today to join us. We’ve spread out over Goreon Kingdom the last several decades, protecting towns as far as we dare to reach from our fortress.
Eagerness pulls me toward this war like a beast to blood. Instinct I can’t ignore yanks a cord taut within me, tethering me like a vessel to an anchor at the bottom of a vicious ocean. There is no other path but one.
One destination. One mission. One result.
And I will plunge into whatever depths are required to take out my enemy and save my Hunter.
We march away from Southend toward the eastern mountain range, snaking back trails and plunging our way through thick forests and deep snow. Grace’s breath heaves beside me as we trudge through winter’s misery.
After hours of hiking and frozen feet in our boots, majestic mountains rise before us when we emerge from the dense forest. Slabs of rough rock and glistening stone reach into the clouds, disappearing from view, like the gods dripped the mountains from their fingertips.
The height of this range makes crossing over it next to impossible. We’ve never attempted it.
We trail across the plain to the edge of the closest mountain, and I watch Lou and his bearers disappear into it. The rest of Central follows, and then Grace scurries through the crevice in the thick stone wall, Riot bringing up the rear behindme, and we vanish into the mountain range at the edge of Goreon territory.
Our boots crunch against gravel, descending and spiraling into the dark caverns of Mortifer Fortress. I remove a torch from the wall and strike it to life, the sizzle and pop of flame echoes into the silence, and warm light dances along the slick, cold soapstone.
Mortifer Fortress is my home, my training ground, my identity, and the sanctuary where our heritage pulses and lives like a breathing ancestor.
Twenty minutes of winding tunnels and correct turns through the labyrinth spit us into the hidden entry chamber. I cross the great carved chamber, centuries of stories honed into stone, memories and lives hallmarked for eternity. My fingers thread the chain around my neck, pulling it from beneath my shirt, and I insert the rock pendant of the Hunter crest into its home.
The familiar whoosh of air whips through the chamber as the massive stone door sinks into the floor before me, grinding and rumbling its way to reveal the fortress beyond. I take Grace’s hand and step over the threshold while we lead the Central outfit into Mortifer.
We emerge into the grand hall. Carpeted lounges dot the room, and dining for a hundred splits the center.
“Took you long enough.”
The scratchy, deep voice floats out from the barracks hallway, one of several doorways leading away from the main hall like spokes on a wheel.
“Master,” I say as he hobbles our way.
“It’s good to see you, boy,” the old man croons, his crooked smile barely visible under his thick gray mustache and beard.
With a quick flick of his wrist, his blade flies through the air, and I catch it between my fingertips. “You too, sir.”
“What about me?” Riot admonishes, unloading the packs from his back onto a sofa.
“You too, Riot,” Master Hull says, opening an arm.
Grace rushes into his side, tucking in and squeezing. “Papa.”
He kisses the top of her head just like he always does. “My baby.” Master’s gaze finds mine. “So, it’s time, then?” he asks. Grace’s smile falters under her father’s arm.
I nod. “Yes. For good reason.”
He snorts. “There’s a thousand reasons to finally take this king out.”
I unsheathe my weapons and pile them on the long dining table. “Hunters will trickle in by tomorrow,” I inform.
“We’re ready for them. Beds, food stores, ale, weapons.”
I try to steel my confidence for the conversation we need to have. “Good, I had no doubts.”
Master laughs. “My blood is buzzing. Haven’t been able to sit still since I felt your call. Eastern outfit is already here.”
I nod.
