My breath fogged in the frozen air as I struggled to steady it. Somewhere ahead, the stag moved through the trees.
"Perfect," I muttered. "This stupid thing is going to be the death of me."
The cold was starting to slow me down. My legs felt heavy, and I'd barely managed to dodge that last attack.
"Great," I muttered again. "Look at the mess you've gotten yourself into now."
I pulled my dagger free and scanned the forest, searching for any sign of the Dread Stag. The silence pressed in around me. That meant it was watching.
"Come on, Ronan… think." My back pressed against the rough bark of a tree as I searched the darkness. Kael's voice echoed in my head. Dread stags are skeletal deer with frost-covered antlers and glowing eyes. They're good at luring hunters into traps.
"Right," I muttered under my breath. "That's comforting."
Something flickered in the distance, too dark to make out clearly. They slow hunters down with a frost aura… then they charge.
"Oh, you've got to be—"
The stag burst from the shadows. I dove sideways, snow exploding beneath me as it tore past where I'd been standing a heartbeat earlier.
"Shit!" My mind raced, forcing Kael's lessons back to the surface. They're fast… but not invincible. Weak against agility and—
Fire. The answer hit me. "That's it."
I rolled onto my back in the snow and threw my hand toward the charging creature. "Pyrrhus!"
A spark flashed in my palm. Heat roared outward as the flame formed, slamming into the stag's back. Fire wrapped around its ribs as it stumbled forward. I was certain that had been the killing blow.
But something was wrong. The stag didn't collapse. It didn't even slow down.
I lay on my back, watching in horror as the flames faded across its rib cage. It pawed at the snow, more angered than hurt.
"Shit… something's not right," I muttered. "That was a clean shot, and there isn't a scratch on him."
It began circling me, slow and deliberate, like it was playing with its prey.
I could remember Kael warning me this might happen—how a novice hunter isn't ready to be out in the mountains alone. To hell with this.
I pushed myself off the snow. "I'm not going down without a fight." I adjusted my grip on my daggers, keeping my eyes locked on its glowing, frozen gaze. That stag wasn't leaving me alive if I didn't act fast.
"Alright… fire didn't do a damn thing," I muttered, scanning for a weak spot. All I need is something to turn this in my favor.
I pressed my hand over the blade. Pyrrhus. Flames licked along the steel, coating it in fire. I grinned. "Now let's get this over with, shall we? I don't plan on missing supper… and I sure as hell don't plan on dying here."
With that, I charged.
The stag stomped its hooves into the snow, a warning to back off. I kept advancing, the snow sizzling where the flames kissed my dagger. Timing was everything—one mistake, and it could end me.
When I was close enough, it charged, its frosted antlers aimed like jagged daggers. I anticipated it. This was my chance.
I thrust my hand forward. "Vayden!" A gust of wind roared through my palms, nearly knocking me off balance, but I pressed on. The stag staggered under the force, leaving a perfect opening around its neck.
I swung my dagger, slicing through bone and sinew. Its head hit the snow with a sickening thud, and the rest of its body collapsed beside it.
I sank into the snow, breathing hard. Casting three sigils in a row had taken every ounce of breath from me; my body felt like lead.
"Casting was never my strongest suit… but I did it," I laughed, glancing at the stag. Its eyes still glowed, eerily fixed on me, as if it hadn't quite left this world.
After a few moments, I collected a small memento from the kill—my first solo hunt—before making my way back to the guild. But even as I walked, the memory of those glowing eyes burned in my mind.