Lunation of Fate

“W-why are they attacking me?” she asked Juste what was going on.

“Didn’t you forget?” Juste was catching his breath. “Don’t put your guard down.”

“H-have t-they found out?” Chastine was fumbling with words.

“Yes, ah!” Juste let out a sharp cry as he pulled out a dart from his right thigh. He was hit before he even came for Chastine.

“Juste!” Chastine was frightened for his life.

“I’ll be fine. Poison don’t really work well against me.” Vigilantly panting, he continued, “they must’ve sensed the shadowcasting presence from before.”

“H-how?”

“Beats me. You should know co’z you’re a witborn, ah!” Juste winced from his other wound, a small shrapnel embedded in his left shoulder blade. He removed it, shaking and with effort.

Shadowcasting is a taboo art developed by the fellhounds. It’s akin to the dark arts that bloodhunts are capable of.

Chastine couldn’t figure out why they have sensed fellhound taboo arts. Someone must’ve been gifted in that village sensitive enough to sense such skill.

Or it could be a newly invented device she wasn’t aware of. Whatever or who it was, they have been ratted out big time.

They badly needed to escape the village.

But it was unfortunate that their location was somewhat far away from the outskirts of the village. Chastine walked near the center of that village.

She felt sorry for what she did.

“Sorry, Juste,” cried Chastine.

He heaved a sigh. “It’s not your fault.” But he added, “I knew this will all go wrong.”

Juste was thinking of a plan for them to escape. Seeing a slim chance of both of them making it out in one piece, he did what he had promised Chastine.

“Chastine, when I tell you to run towards that direction,” he was telling while pointing opposite of the arrow’s trajectory, “run, ok? Don’t stop til you see a trail.”

He continued, “Don’t worry, that’s opposite fellhound territory. There’s another witborn village along that area. Just follow the trail, you won’t miss it.”

“What about you?” She had a valid concerning question.

“I’ll try to buy you time to escape. Don’t worry, I’ll catch up on you.” Juste looked at Chastine’s eyes.

Chastine had mixed feelings about Juste’s plan. She knew he was lying about catching up with her.

Was this the end of their journey together? Chastine thought. Her eyes began to bead up.

Juste gently tapped Chastine’s cheek twice with his cupped hand. He then smiled at her and said, “you be a good girl.”

He then stood up and readied himself to face their attackers.

Some village people with torches and pikes in their hands began showing up, closing in on them forming a semi-circle around them.

Juste then whispered a countdown and shouted at Chastine, “3, 2, 1… RUN!”

Chastine was about to run opposite their attackers’ direction, but she made a stand to help Juste instead. She didn’t budge an inch.

“What the f*ck?! What are you doing?” Juste was flabbergasted at what she just did.

“I’ll help you, Juste.” It was Chastine’s emboldened words to him. “I can’t just leave you behind.”

“Heh, you idiot.” Juste’s face let out a confident smirk, one that looked like he’s up for the challenge of winning against their opponents. “Just don’t be a burden.”

Chastine doesn’t really know how to fight. She’s more of a thinker and a tinkerer than a fighter.

But she knows how to use her wits. She was thinking how she could help him clear off some ground before they bust out.

She noticed there were several bottles of alcohol next to where they were hiding.

While Juste was busy taking out some village people with his bare hands, Chastine was onto something with the bottles.

She quickly ran to that side of the house where the bottles were crated and in order.

She tried to tear the hem of her gown into strips, opened a few bottles, and squeezed down half of the strip of cloth inside the bottle’s mouth.

She grabbed Juste’s flintstones from his coat pocket and started to light up the dangling strip of one bottle.

She then threw it between Juste and the crowd of attackers.

Juste looked at her and said, “Not bad, witborn.”

She tried to do it as many times as fast as she could until there was a semi-circular strip of fire between them and the crowd of village attackers.

She then ran towards Juste’s and grabbed his arm. “Come on!”

Juste and Chastine ran opposite the fire and the village people’s direction.

Chastine thought that this should be their last run for their life and wanted to get to Nhraim as fast as possible.

But as soon as she was about to climb up the side gate of the village, she was welcomed by a couple of tink tanks.

They were spewing out steam at their backs, readying to subdue her and Juste.

Juste let out a growl then started to lunge towards one tink tank. Chastine could only watch in disappointment as she ran out of ideas to counter a tink tank.

Juste was mightily strong, but the tink tanks were a juggernaut in terms of speed, power, and strength.

It was reputed to be that way, to overpower and defend humankind against fellhounds and bloodhunts.Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

One of the tink tank’s arm had grope Juste by the neck. It was squeezing him tightly, knocking him out of his senses.

When Juste was knocked down, a couple of villagers seized Chastine by the arm. They were caught and there was no way to run.

“Let go! We meant no harm in this village!” Chastine let out the truth of the matter.

But she was also knocked out from behind, her head being hit by the butt of a large knife.

—

Moments later, Chastine woke up and regained her senses.

She knew she was in a familiar place again: in prison. Her wrists were tied together with a thick rope.

But it wasn’t the prison at the fellhounds’ castle.

That place was also cold and damp, with meshes of steel bars keeping her away from her freedom.

The prison was in that very village, in a basement in one of the houses of that little town.

From a small window, Chastine could barely see what was happening outside, but she heard it involves lynching, as shouted by one of the villagers.

The shocking news made her walk backwards, hitting the mesh bar behind her.

And just then, she sensed an ominous presence beside her.

“So you’re my new meal, eh?” hissed the ominous presence, “skinny to the bones but you’ll do.”

Chastine slowly glanced to her left to see who had just talked with a spine-chilling, craving voice.

And she saw him, a bloodhunt, licking his tongue slowly around his lips, revealing his pointy fangs at her. His glare was red and piercing through her body and soul.

She fell backwards at the sight of him and gasped.

What was she going do this time for them to break free from it all?

Think, Chastine, think, she said to herself.

The hungry bloodhunt was drawing near to her, as if he was toying with his meal. He could’ve swiftly drank her dry, but this bloodhunt was taking his time with her.

Then Chastine suddenly noticed his wrists. He was in shackles. And not just some ordinary kind of chains, it was made of silver and another special kind of metal alloy.

Probably a lead base alloy, as lead can absorb the rays of the sun.

Chastine opened her mouth to clearly say these words, “do you want to be free from human thralldom?”

The bloodhunt’s eyes widened in awe as she said those bold words.