1
Western Scotland
Her quarry wasn’t far now—though Runa enjoyed the hunt. Long ago, she’d been taught to become a master of patience. Only when her target was close did her heart begin to pump excitedly. There was nothing more satisfying than taking out evil.
Stars blinked above her in the inky sky. Large, gray clouds slowly made their way across the heavens, their silhouettes highlighted by the crescent moon. The night was her favorite time. She could pretend the world was hers alone during those dark recesses of the night when most slumbered.
The one thing Runa didn’t like was people. They were liars, thieves, and deceivers. Their hypocrisy knew no bounds, and no matter how many times she gave them the benefit of the doubt, they continued proving why she was better on her own. Morea had told her that she belonged with the humans, but Runa knew better.
Her short time with them had only reinforced her decision.
She blew out a breath as she thought about the woman who had raised her. Morea had passed away several years ago, but Runa still missed her with the same ache. The woman had been Runa’s family—the only family she had. Or…the only one that mattered.
Runa pushed aside the tinge of melancholy that always came when she thought of Morea being gone. She couldn’t let her thoughts get in the way of her hunt. Especially not this one. It was too important.
There, in the distance, she picked up the sounds of her quarry. She heard the rapid, harsh breaths, proving that they had been running for some time. Runa smiled when her prey came over the small rise, making themselves visible. When she was younger, she had rushed out to meet her targets in her eagerness to finish the job. Now, she waited for them to come to her.
It was almost too easy, really. She had a knack for knowing the path they would take. Then, all she had to do was lay in wait for them. Morea had told Runa that something passed down from her birth parents had given her that ability. She didn’t care how or where she got it. The fact that she had it was enough for her.
But once she realized that she had such an ability, hunting lost some of its appeal. She had enjoyed the chase. Liked tracking her quarry and then finally catching them. There was no getting around trailing them. That was now her favorite part of the job.
Her target was getting closer. Runa cautioned herself to wait, to remember the patience Morea had taught her. Only when her prey was nearly upon her did Runa step into their path. Her eyes locked with black ones that widened in surprise—that brief instant when her target wondered if they could get away.
“You can’t,” she stated.
A small frown creased the Gira’s bark-like skin. Even the tree nymph’s hair looked like limbs, reaching toward the sky. The young Gira stared at Runa, fear and apprehension filling her visage.
Runa blew out a breath as she pulled her short swords from their scabbards that crisscrossed her back. She then placed the flat side of the blades against her shoulders. The nymphs tended to stay in groups, and because the Gira blended in so well with the trees, few forests didn’t have their fair share of them.
“You know who I am?” Runa asked.
The nymph nodded slowly, never taking her gaze from Runa.
“The Gira have put a price on your head for dishonoring your clan.”
At this, the nymph snorted. “I’m not the one who dishonored anything.”
“I’m not here to pass judgment. I’m here to carry out the sentence. Besides, you wouldn’t be running if you hadn’t done…something.”
The nymph rolled her eyes. “You think you’re so high and mighty. You, Runa, know nothing. So much has been kept from you. You were sent to kill me for dishonoring my clan. What do you think your precious Morea did? If it hadn’t been for the old queen, Asrail, Morea would’ve been killed.”
“I know the story you speak of. Morea and Asrail were close friends for years. When Morea found me and decided to raise me, Asrail didn’t stand in her way.”
The Gira’s smile was slow before she began laughing. She tilted her head to the side and regarded Runa. “Asrail is your grandmother. You’ve been kept alive because she and Morea made sure that neither you nor your sister could be found by the rest of us. But that’s all about to change. Asrail has been caught, and your sister has been found.”
Runa felt as if she had been kicked. Sister? Surely, everything this Gira said couldn’t possibly be true. Could it? But she remembered being very young and asking Morea why they weren’t with other Gira. Morea had told her it was because she preferred to live apart from the others.
Runa never had a reason to question that. Not even when she began to see for herself that the Gira rarely went out on their own. They nearly always remained in packs. Their strength was in their numbers and the many whispers that drew unsuspecting humans straight to them.
“You’re lying,” Runa told the nymph.
The Gira shook her head, the smile now gone. “I’m not. I’m running from my clan because they want to kill Asrail. After they use her to draw out your sister, that is.”
Runa didn’t want to believe any of it, but something within her said there was truth in the Gira’s words. She didn’t want to think about why Morea hadn’t told her about Asrail or her sister. There had to be a good reason.
It would be easy for Runa to finish her mission and forget anything the nymph had told her. But she wasn’t going to. Now that the words had been spoken, Runa would always remember them. And if she wanted to discover the truth, she needed to seek out her sister and Asrail to get it.
“Where are they holding Asrail?”
The Gira stared at Runa for a moment before she replied, “North.”
Not once had Runa ever let someone she hunted go. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she didn’t finish the job now. But none of that mattered at the moment. Her mind was too full of the fact that her grandmother was alive, and the knowledge that she had a sister. Neither of which she had known.
“What are you going to do with me?” the nymph asked.
Runa pulled herself from her thoughts. “I was paid to do a job.”
“I’m not the only one who doesn’t agree with what Sybbyl is doing, but I’m the only one who spoke up,” the Gira said.
“Who is Sybbyl?”
The nymph jerked back as if struck. “How do you not know of the Coven leader?”
“The Coven is led by three elders,” Runa corrected.
“Not any longer. Sybbyl took the Staff of the Eternal and killed them.”
Runa began to wonder if she was dreaming. She felt as if the world were turning a different way than she was. “What is the Staff of the Eternal?”
“You really don’t know anything, do you?” the Gira asked in disbelief.
Runa gave her a flat look and lowered her arms so the blades of her short swords pointed downward.
“All right,” the nymph said while lifting her hands, palms up. “The staff contains a bone of the First Witch. The Coven elders have been trying to locate and possess them ever since the Coven was formed. The Blood Skull was only found recently, but not by the witches. A Witch Hunter and a lord located it. The Blood Skull chose the lord to be its Warden and protect it.”