Chapter 8: The Monster Hunt
The atmosphere in the estate shifted the morning Kael and his soldiers prepared to leave for the western village. The courtyard buzzed with activity as soldiers tightened their armor, inspected their weapons, and mounted their horses. Amara watched from the steps of the main hall, her hands clasped tightly together, her lips pressed into a thin line. She wanted to feel relief that Kael was taking action, but the fear of what lay ahead dampened any sense of satisfaction.
Kael emerged from the house, his presence commanding as always. He wore a dark cloak over his armor, and his sword rested at his hip, its hilt worn from years of use. His expression was unreadable, though his eyes briefly flicked to Amara as he descended the steps.
"Remember what I said," he said curtly when he stopped in front of her. "Stay within the estate. This is no place for impulsive decisions."
"I know," Amara replied, her voice calm despite the knot in her stomach. "I've made preparations for the villagers. When you return, there will be food and supplies ready for them."
Kael nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. Then, without another word, he turned and mounted his horse. With a sharp command, he led his soldiers out of the courtyard, the sound of hooves fading into the distance.
Amara stood there long after they were gone, her heart heavy with worry. She turned to Celia, who hovered nearby with an anxious expression. "Let's get to work," Amara said. "There's much to be done."
Kael's party reached the village by mid-afternoon, the sun casting long shadows over the dense forest that bordered the settlement. The headman, Aldric, met them at the outskirts, his face lined with worry.
"They come at night," Aldric explained as he led them to the tree line. "From deep in the forest. We've seen their glowing eyes and heard their howls. They're... not natural."
Kael didn't respond, his jaw tightening as he examined the tracks in the dirt. The size of the prints and the deep gouges left by claws confirmed what Aldric had said. These were no ordinary wolves.
"We'll deal with it," Kael said, his tone firm. "Keep your people indoors tonight. Leave the rest to us."
The soldiers set up a perimeter around the village, their movements swift and practiced. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the forest grew eerily quiet, the kind of silence that makes the hairs on the back of one's neck stand on end.
Kael stood at the center of the perimeter, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His eyes scanned the shadows, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring. He had faced worse than wolves in his time, but there was something unsettling about this silence, this waiting.
A howl shattered the stillness, low and guttural, followed by a chorus of echoes. The soldiers tensed, gripping their weapons as the sound grew louder, closer.
"They're coming," Kael said, drawing his sword.
The first creature burst from the shadows, its glowing eyes burning like embers in the darkness. It was larger than any wolf Kael had ever seen, its black fur matted and its teeth bared in a snarl. More followed, their shapes shifting and blending with the shadows as they circled the soldiers.
"Hold the line!" Kael shouted, stepping forward to meet the first wolf head-on.
The clash was brutal. The wolves were fast, their movements almost supernatural, but Kael's men held their ground. Steel met flesh, and the air was filled with snarls and shouts. Kael fought with precision, his blade cutting through the creatures with practiced ease. But for every wolf they felled, another seemed to take its place.
Hours passed in a blur of blood and chaos. Kael's muscles burned, and his breath came in ragged gasps, but he didn't falter. When the final wolf fell, the clearing was silent once more, save for the heavy breathing of the soldiers.
Kael wiped his blade on his cloak, his eyes scanning the carnage. "Check for injuries," he ordered, his voice hoarse. "Then we move out."
While Kael and his men fought in the forest, Amara worked tirelessly to prepare for their return. She organized the servants to gather supplies—blankets, food, and medical kits—ensuring that everything was ready for the villagers and soldiers alike.
Despite her focus, worry gnawed at her. She couldn't shake the image of Kael facing those creatures, his blade flashing in the moonlight. She didn't know what it was like to fight, to kill, but she could imagine the toll it must take.
Celia found her in the kitchen, overseeing the preparation of stew for the returning soldiers. "You've been at this all day," Celia said, her tone laced with concern. "You should rest."
"I can't," Amara replied, shaking her head. "Not until they're back."
Celia sighed but said nothing more. She knew better than to argue when Amara was this determined.
It was nearly dawn when the sound of hooves echoed through the courtyard once more. Amara rushed to the steps, her heart pounding as Kael and his soldiers rode in. They were covered in blood and dirt, their faces drawn with exhaustion. Several men bore injuries, their armor dented and their movements slow.
Kael dismounted, his steps unsteady as he approached her. Amara's gaze flicked to the deep gash on his arm, blood seeping through the makeshift bandage.
"You're hurt," she said, her voice tight with concern.
"It's nothing," Kael replied, his tone dismissive. But when she reached for his arm, he didn't pull away.
"Come inside," she said firmly. "You need to be treated."
Kael allowed her to lead him into the house, too tired to argue. As Amara tended to his wound, carefully cleaning and stitching the gash, he studied her face. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, her touch gentle yet sure.
"You're good at this," he said quietly.
Amara glanced up, surprised. "I've had to be. Sometimes it's the only way to help."
Kael didn't reply, but something softened in his gaze. He had seen her determination before, but now he saw something more: strength, resilience, and a genuine care for the people around her.
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As the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon, the estate began to settle. Soldiers rested, their wounds tended, while the villagers who had traveled to the estate for shelter received food and care. Amara moved through the courtyard, ensuring everyone was attended to, her exhaustion pushed aside by her sense of duty.
Kael watched her from the steps, his injured arm bandaged, his expression thoughtful. She was proving to be more than he had expected—more than he had ever thought possible. And for the first time, he wondered if perhaps this partnership, this marriage of convenience, might hold something deeper than he had anticipated.
Something worth fighting for.