The Hunt

Written by Jane Barnaby for Sylvani's backstory

The rhythmic clack of two pairs of wooden sandals on the rough stone floor drove away the silence in the cold dungeon. A man stumbled between the two disciples, tripping over his own feet. He fell to the ground, only to be yanked up again by the collar inlaid with tin around his neck.

"Keep a move on," one of the sorcerers barked in Italian before kicking the man forwards. With a whimper of pain, the man obeyed, but his steps came close to faltering.

The rags he wore did little to keep out the freezing cold of the underground dungeon. It seeped right into him through his bare feet and arms. A shiver ran down his spine as he huddled along, trying to preserve energy while getting warm.

Animals screamed at them as they passed row after row of cages. Some were still in their natural form, others consisted of two or more creatures forged together with cursed combination of black magic and alchemy. One stared the man directly in his crimson eyes, its gaze filled equally with uncanny intelligence and bloodlust.

The man gave it a small, imperceptible smile. Then his smile vanished as a cough racked his body, and he doubled over. Before he had a chance to regain his breath, the disciples tugged on the chain of his collar, forcing him forward.

"We're almost there, you mutt."

The disciple was right. Only a few dozen metres before they'd reach his cell. He let out a smaller cough, counting the torches as they approached their destination. Five, four, three...

One of them opened the door to his cell while the other kicked him to the ground. The man cried out in pain as his knees his the rough stone. Before he could fall over, the other sorcerer grabbed him by the collar, inserting the key into it.

For a moment, time slowed. The key turned and released the collar. The man's magic flowed back into him. His weakness disappeared like mist in the sun. He jumped up and turned to his captors, his teeth elongated into a tiger's fangs.

Their eyes widened in surprise as their meek prisoner turned into a monster in a matter of moments. The two sorcerers couldn't even cry out before their heads were torn from their bodies by giant claws.

The creature that was once a man laid his head into his neck and opened his mouth in a silent but victorious cry. All around him, the caged animals screeched, frenzied by the smell of blood.

When he stood over the two bodies, nothing remained from the act he'd put on moments earlier. The weak human was gone. In his place stood a beast that almost touched the three-metre tall ceiling, its aura filled with rage and bloodlust, but most of all, intense, uncontained power.

His face had transformed into that of a lion, and his dark brown mane flowed around him. Fur covered his arms, which now ended in a feline's claws. Stag-like antlers had grown from his head as two full, orange tails with black tips sprouted from his back.

A grin lit up his face as he felt the raw strength and power of over half a dozen beasts flow through him. The hunt had begun.