The Hunt

Nine Years Ago....

His feet pounded against the earth, his grip on the bow tightening as the arrows strapped to his back shook with each stride. He sprinted through the dense woods, dodging low-hanging branches and leaping over lying trunks and massive rocks. The sunlight filtering through the canopy above cast dappled shadows on the forest floor.

His eyes never left his target – a majestic deer with horns that seemed to blaze like fiery silver in the sunlight. The horns twisted and curved, their tips sharp as knives.

His determination drove him forward, his breathing steady and focused. He had hunted these woods countless times, but never had he seen a deer like this.

As he gained ground, Idris swiftly notched an arrow onto his bowstring, his hands moving with practiced ease. He drew the string back, taking aim.

The deer darted to the left, and his arrow whispered past its ear, missing by a hair's breadth. The deer altered its course, now charging straight for him. He feet seemed rooted to the spot, his movements slowing.

The deer rose onto its hind legs, its silvery horns aglow. A bolt of lightning burst from the sky, striking the ground mere feet away. He dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the electrifying blast. As he rolled, he drew another arrow, his hands moving swiftly.

"This can't be," He muttered to himself. "It's an Eldritch Fey."

Legendary creatures, hunted for their horns, said to hold the essence of the elements. He knew the risks, but he had to bring down this prey.

As Idris faced the Eldritch Fey, he realized he had underestimated its power. The creature's horns pulsed with an otherworldly energy, casting an eerie glow across the forest floor.

The deer charged, its hooves pounding the earth. He dodged, but a bolt of lightning struck the ground, sending him tumbling backward. His skin grazed against the rough terrain, scraping off layers of skin.

He sprang up, sliding on the muddy ground. Panic set in as he reached for his arrows, only to find most had scattered across the ground. The deer bore down on him, its horns crackling with electricity. Idris drew his blade, a slender dagger at his hip.

He lunged, aiming for the creature's heart, but the Eldritch Fey proved relentless. Each assault came faster, its movements blurring. A powerful bolt of lightning struck him, throwing him to the ground. Panting, his vision blurred.

As he struggled to focus, the Eldritch Fey approached, its horns dimming. It seemed to sense the threat had passed. He watched, awestruck, as the creature began to dissolve into fractions of light.

"What...what are you?" he whispered.

The Eldritch Fey's form shattered, dispersing into shimmering motes that vanished into the forest. He lay flat, his chest heaving. Suddenly, a voice echoed in his mind.

"You shouldn't have come here, hunter."

And those were the last words he heard.

He struggled to rise, his battered body protesting every movement. He grunted, pushing himself up from the muddy ground.

As he stood, he surveyed the aftermath. His arrows lay scattered, some broken, others still intact. He gathered the remaining ones, carefully securing them in his quiver.

With his bow in hand, Idris began to move through the woods, stumbling with each step. His vision blurred, and his legs trembled beneath him.

He recalled the rumors about Eldritch Fey – powerful spirit creatures embodied with magic. Possessing a patch from one meant wielding unexplainable power. Power that was beyond human interpretation.

Legends spoke of their intensity in confrontations. No one dared to challenge them, except the person was a powerful mage of some sort. He had heard about these mages, normally known as the heroes of their kingdom, whose power could slice a mountain in half if they wanted to.

He realized he was lucky to be alive.

The encounter left him shaken, but curiosity lingered. What made this Eldritch Fey so aggressive? Was it because he had attacked it, not knowing what it was?

He pondered as he walked, the forest silence a stark contrast to the chaos he'd endured. The trees seemed to close in around him, shadows cast long and ominous. His instincts screamed warning, but his worn body refused to respond.

He left the woods, emerging into the open field where his family's house stood. He took a deep breath, stumbling toward the familiar structure.

As he entered, he was caught off guard by the scene before him. His mother sat on the couch, her face buried in her hands, lost in thought. Her dark hair cascaded down her back, framing her porcelain skin.

Beside her sat a man with piercing blue eyes and chiseled features. His blond hair was styled messily, and a silver stud glinted in his left eyebrow. A small scar above his right eyebrow added to his rugged charm. The man's stern gaze commanded attention, exuding an air of authority.

He closed the door, and his mother quickly turned, rising from the couch. "You're back? Where were you? I was looking for you."

He tried to hide his wounds, adopting a nonchalant tone. "Just playing in the woods."

Hannah's gaze narrowed, her eyes locking onto the scrapes and bruises on his skin. "Sweetie, you're hurt." She rushed to his side, concern etched on her face. "You shouldn't be going out in the woods like that. It's not safe."

The blond man spoke, his deep voice filling the room. "Hannah, aren't you going to introduce me to your son?" His piercing eyes shifted to him, scrutinizing him. "I''m your uncle, Alucard," he said, his gaze lingering on him.

Idris's eyes widened in disbelief. "Uncle?" he repeated, his voice laced with skepticism. He flinched as his mother touched his wound, her gentle fingers probing the bruise. Hannah's eyes locked onto his, her expression serious. "Yes, sweetie, he is."

Idris's gaze drifted back to the stranger, his mind reeling. "I...I never thought I had an uncle," he stammered.

Hannah's smile was awkward. "You do now, and that's all that matters."

A spark of curiosity ignited within him. He shrugged off his mother's concern and approached Alucard. Crossing his arms, Idris adopted a nonchalant tone. "Scrape off, 'uncle'. What brings you here, anyway? Why show up now, out of the blue?"

Hannah's voice turned stern. "Idris, manners."

Alucard's piercing gaze never wavered. "It's alright, Hannah. I'm used to...spirited reunions." He leaned forward, his eyes locked onto Idris.

Alucard's lips curled into a confidential smirk. "Aren't you excited to meet your uncle, nephew?"

Idris pouted, taking a couple of steps back. He folded his arms, his voice dripping with disdain. "I don't really care. And I think you suck."

Through the corner of his eye, he saw Alucard spread his hand, and a small spark ignited. Flames burst into life, dancing across his palm. A shiver raced down his spine. Excitement sparked within him.

"Are you a mage?" Idris asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Alucard grinned, the flames reflecting in his eyes. "I'm something more than just a mage." He leaned forward, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "And the same blood that courses through my veins runs through yours, nephew."

*

(Present Time)

Like ripples on the surface of a still lake, the memories faded away just in time for him to be met with a burning sensation that spread across his skin. He could feel it, the hot iron as it pressed against his chest, and he couldn't help the scream that escaped his mouth. It was painful, but only for a second, until the iron was removed. A Slave Seal.

He grunted, sweat dripping down his skin, his blurry eyes staring at where the Vhaeryn stood. His silver hair, and crimson eyes spoke a mystery, and what stood out the most was his terrible grin, as if he was enjoying the torment. He had just sold them, all for the sake of money? And it disturbed him, had he been in Eden, non of this would have happened.

He looked at his new Lord, he heard been introduced earlier and he went by a weird name, something that rang like Lawrence, but he wasn't sure. The only thing he was sure of, was that the man only wanted a Slave, a valuable slave he could keep under his possession, perhaps for political reasons? And it disturbed him.

Slave Seals were there to maintain balance between the slave and their owners. Those were some of the first lessons he was taught in Eden. He had seen these spells being used on mortals, human slaves that had been abducted from their villages and towns. This is how the world worked, and funny, he was now the one being turned into a slave.

"I don't see the real reason why we should keep wasting time," Lord Lawrence said, his tone spicy. "I have many things to tend to, and I wouldn't want to disrupt my schedule just for this."

"Don't stress yourself out." Kaelin said softly, "Our deal is set."

Idris sighed, his gaze drifting to Elianore as she stood beside him. Her golden hair cascaded down her back like sunlight, and her lilac eyes sparkled with a quiet strength. She hardly flinched when the Slave Seal was imprinted on her skin, as if she felt zero pain.

Elianore's poise commanded attention, even in the midst of bondage. Her slender fingers curled into fists, but her eyes remained calm, enchanting.

Idris couldn't help but feel a pang of admiration. How did she remain so brave, so cunning?

He, on the other hand, felt broken, his spirit crushed beneath the weight of the Slave Seal.

"Why can't I be like her?" he thought, his eyes locked onto Elianore's serene face.

Lord Lawrence's voice cut through his thoughts. "I expect obedience, and absolute loyalty. Any disobedience will be...dealt with."

Elianore's gaze met Lord Lawrence's, her lilac eyes flashing with defiance. "I understand," she said, her voice melodious.

He envied her composure. He could only manage a bitter nod.

Kaelin's smile grew wider. "Excellent. I'll leave them in your care, Lord Lawrence."

*

Idris stepped out of the building, wrapping a warm sheet around his shoulders. The cool morning air caressed his skin, a gentle reminder of his newfound vulnerability. His gaze drifted downward, his mind still reeling from the loss of his wings and the brutal reality of his enslavement.

Before him lay the bustling city of Eridoria, its grandeur a stark contrast to his current state. Towering spires made of polished marble and sweeping arches adorned with intricate carvings dominated the skyline.

A luxurious coach, crafted from dark ebony wood and adorned with golden filigree, stood outside. Two guards clad in polished silver armor flanked the vehicle, their eyes scanning the surroundings with practiced vigilance.

Idris's gaze shifted to Elianore, her golden hair cascading down her back like sunlight. Her lilac eyes sparkled with quiet strength, and her slender fingers curled into fists. Her porcelain skin seemed almost ethereal in the morning light.

Their attention turned to Lord Lawrence, who stood beside the coach, adorned in his opulent attire. His triple-chinned face was flushed, and his small, beady eyes sparkled with excitement. His lavish coat, embroidered with silver thread, billowed behind him.

Just as Idris began to adjust to the scene, a figure emerged from the crowd. The man wore a distinctive black coat with a serpent-shaped crest emblazoned on the shoulder in shimmering silver thread. Gloves made of supple black leather covered his hands, and his eyes gleamed with an otherworldly intensity.

"Ah, Julius," Lord Lawrence said, his tone cautious.

Julius' gaze swept across Idris and Elianore before settling on Lord Lawrence. His eyes narrowed.

"I see you've acquired new...assets," Julius said, his voice dripping with intrigue.

"Bought these new assets," Lord Lawrence said. "One of them is a wingless angel, and the other an assassin."

Idris took a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure. It didn't matter what it was that he felt, was it anger? Or a dire need to flee. One thing or the other, the Slave Seal was the only binding spell that kept him at bay. Apart from being weakened, he was sure that using only the training he acquired in Eden, he could kill mostly anyone with just mere combat.

Memories still flashed in his mind's eye, reminding him of what took place years ago, when he met his uncle, Alucard. He could still remember when he first taught him how to use magic, how to conjure the power that coursed through his blood. He felt a shiver race down his spine, and a small spark igniting just beneath his veins. It was like a weak flame, eager to burst all his veins.

With the corner of an eye, he caught a movement from the window above. Quickly turning, he gazed at her, Lysa, as she peaked through the curtain — her eyes were gleaming, almost as if she wanted to reach out and save him. He managed to smile, wondering what sort of relationship she had with a Fae. They couldn't be related, could they?

"I have a meeting to attend," Lord Lawrence said, his grumpy tone echoing throughout the yard. "And I don't want to run late."

"I was about to ask you the same question." Julius said. "And if you're planning to go out, who are you leaving these idiots with?"

"You're incharge." Lord Lawrence said, and Idris cocked a brow, quickly tilting his gaze in time to face Elianore. She was holding a smirk, her small knife flipping in her hands as if she had a deadly intention. Comparing her beauty, and her reputation, he couldn't quite believer that he was staring at a killer. She looked so young, no younger than twenty and yet, her hands were stained with more blood than he could imagine. She was a slayer, a Celestial Slayer, and he wondered if he could join forces with her for a moment, find a way to break the Slave Seal, and maybe go back home.

This was no place for a wingless angel, and he knew it.