Mydaiel took a deep breath and held it for a few moments, trying to quell the frantic thudding of her heart against her ribs. She shifted her weight and pulled her wings tighter to her back before slowly releasing the air she had been holding in. The past few days and nights had been grueling, filled with training and tactic as Sarielle pumped as much of the required skill set into her as she could. Mydaiel had endured until her legs shook and her hands could barely keep hold of her sai, and it was all leading up to this night; the Nephilim were gathering for the hunt. All around her, warriors were preparing, sharpening blades on whetstones or adjusting battle garbs. Some were clustered together, hands on hilts or wrapped around the stems of expertly crafted bows, speaking in hushed tones about the upcoming night, while others stood alone miming still and silent statues.

Charmeine stood beside her, cradling her glaive across one arm like a fragile infant rather than the massive, deadly weapon it was. One curved blade arced high above her head and glinted in the lamplight illuminating the room. Her sister’s head turned and her lips split to a pearly grin, eyes shining with an eager glint that sent a rippling chill down Mydaiel’s spine. Suddenly, she could see her sister on her perception of Earth, illuminated in the glow of demon-light, hair wild and gaze primal, a predator hunched bloodied over her prey. Charmeine flared her wings, the tip of her outermost flight feathers sliding harmlessly over Mydaiel’s jaw, and for a moment, she could see were the bloodstained hues before Charmeine resettled them against her back. “Are you ready, Mydaiel? I have grown restless awaiting the chance again to fly into the night and feast on the blood of plague.”

“I am still not certain what I am meant to do,” Mydaiel admitted as she choked once again on the bitter bile of confusion and frustration; she wanted to be forewarned and yet she was ignorant as ever as the hunt loomed.

Charmeine stepped closer, swapping her weapon to the other arm so she could place her palm flat on the back of Mydaiel’s skull and pull their foreheads together. “Be calm, little sister; I understand your frustrations and once I knew them as well as you do now, but no one can warn you what the hunt will be like, for your hunt is yours alone. We are each of us unique in our methods and you must be left to find your own this night, but do not allow concern or despair to distract you, you will not be alone. Every Nephilim huntress is accompanied by a warrior, a guard, and Sarielle will oversee you this once as well, you will be fine. Trust your instincts, Mydaiel; you are one of us.”

Mydaiel hummed at her sister’s words, the sound resonating in the back of her throat. She took a breath and forced the tension to leave her body and make room for a tranquil calm. It was not the answer she had been hoping for, but she accepted it for what it was; another test.

Charmeine pulled away and gave her a small nod. “You will be fine,” she assured her before her attention was redirected towards another Nephilim who had approached and pulled her aside to murmur something quietly. Mydaiel watched curiously, unable to hear what was being said, but observing her sister occasionally nod her head, her brow furrowing or lips twitching into a grin at different points.

Finally, Mydaiel turned away and scanned the crowded room for Sarielle. Not all the Nephilim would fly tonight, there were too many of them, and each slaughter was carefully controlled to keep discretion; humans were more open to impossible possibilities when they were suspicious and they would be, if too many went missing too often or there were enough sightings not to be written off. She shuffled her wings in response to the building anticipation that was beginning to pulse through the hall. The Nephilim were preparing for flight and Mydaiel was eager to stretch her wings.

She twisted at the hand laid on her shoulder to stare into Sarielle’s calm face. Her sister’s raven hair was tightly woven into a braid that doubled back on itself against her skull; carefully pinned into place to keep any strays out of her dark gray eyes. Her sword hung at her belt and Sarielle had her free hand resting on the hilt. “Are you ready for tonight, Mydaiel?” she inquired. The hand on Mydaiel’s shoulder lifted to brush a stray wisp of hair back behind her ear. “You have excelled in training these past few days. I have no doubts you will do Avalon proud. I am eager to fly with you, sister.”

Mydaiel leaned into her sister’s touch and nodded. She was eager too. “I look forward to it, but Sarielle; I truly wish I was not so blind to what will come.”

Sarielle sighed and took hold of Mydaiel’s shoulders, squeezing lightly. “Your curiosity is insatiable, Mydaiel. Ever since you were a child, so many questions. Peace, sister – have I ever once sent you unprepared into anything expected of you?”

“No,” Mydaiel murmured. She scuffed a foot along the floor and chewed her lip as she resisted the urge to lower her gaze like a scolded child.

Sarielle’s smile was gentle as she raised a hand, palm up, between them. Mydaiel hesitated for a moment before placing her hand in Sarielle’s. Her older sister gently squeezed her fingers and met her gaze. “Then I ask that you trust me now. Follow my lead; all will be revealed soon.”

“I tried to tell her that,” Charmeine added. Mydaiel glanced over to see her middle sibling approach holding two copper chalices. She offered them both to Sarielle and shrugged helplessly, her wings bobbing behind her. “You will fly with the flock and spill blood this eve, Mydaiel. What more is there to know?”

Mydaiel blushed and looked away. Though Charmeine’s tone was light, Mydaiel could not help but feel mocked. She was not certain herself why she needed to know so badly, but the questions still burned at her like flames to dry tinder.

“They are ready now,” Charmeine added to Sarielle. “Good luck, Mydaiel. You have waited a long time for this moment; bask in it.”

Mydaiel watched Charmeine turn and slip back into the crowd before returning her attention to Sarielle, who was holding one of the chalices out to her. “Drink,” she instructed. “It is time.”

Mydaiel accepted the goblet and glanced down to find the same brew she had sampled a few nights prior. Bracing herself for a similar reaction, Mydaiel tipped the cup back and drained it in a single gulp. The rush of power and cravings hit her head on, but other than a gasp and some staggered footsteps, Mydaiel was able to keep herself under control. She glanced up to see Sarielle grinning savagely at her. Her sister’s pearly teeth were stained dark red with the beverage and her eyes flashed with a glowing red-gold hue. The sight was disturbing on Sarielle, who was usually very stoic. The wild, predatory look in Sarielle’s gaze was something she might expect to see from Charmeine, but less so from her clutch leader.

Sarielle jerked her head to where the other Nephilim were beginning to filter out of the hall into a courtyard. Falling in step, Mydaiel kept pace with her sister as they walked. The courtyard was grassy, with simple cobblestone pathways rimming the square shaped yard. The center of each side has a path branching off to the center, where it curved around a massive circular gap in the side of the cliff. While Mydaiel could look beyond the high pillars of the courtyard and see a tall mountain range and the starry night sky, a glimpse through the drop showed heavy cloud cover. The barrier between Earth and Avalon. She wondered if it was always open, or how it looked when there was no ongoing hunt.

The Nephilim were walking up the paths and dropping down through the gap. Excited howls and war cries rose in the air as the Nephilim hunters began the plummet towards Earth. There was probably about fifty or sixty of her people were going on this hunt. Soon, Mydaiel found herself on the precipice of the drop-off with Sarielle by her side. Her sister grinned at her and reached out to capture Mydaiel’s hand within her own. “Ready?”

Mydaiel swallowed, her heart beating loudly, blood droning in her ears to the point where she barely heard Sarielle. But she set her jaw and nodded. It was time and she was ready. When Sarielle pitched forward, Mydaiel followed her, leaning into open air and then freefalling through a thick, moist veil of clouds. She couldn’t see anything aside from the white fluff as they plummeted down.

Then they hit the barrier.

It slowed their descent, like pushing through syrup, and Mydaiel winced at the sudden resistance. It was over in a heartbeat with a loud popping noise in her ears before they were falling again, this time through open sky. Below her, thousands of lights glittered from massive skyscrapers and roads filled with noisy, honking cars. It was the first time Mydaiel had seen the things she had read about. She choked as she inhaled smog filled air, her eyes beginning to water at the impure environment. Shaking her head to clear it, Mydaiel grit her teeth and opened her wings, allowing the sails to fill and slow her descent. All around her, various Nephilim were doing the same.

Many of them broke rank, angling away on high altitude air currents and zipping off out of sight. Mydaiel slowed and began to tread air, working her wings furiously as she swivelled around. “Where are we?” she called over the noise, glancing over to where her sister kept pace with her. She was only vaguely familiar with human geography and while their location did not truly matter – she wanted to know where her first hunt would take place. Of course, the Nephilim could fly fast enough to travel to other parts of a continent in the night, but the entirety of the globe was too much of a stretch. They would not cross oceans due to the risk.

“The barrier has let out over Europe,” Sarielle replied as she swam closer through the air. The steady beat of her wings was like a heart ringing in Mydaiel’s ears. “I believe we are over London. Why does it concern you?”

Mydaiel shook her head. “It does not. This is my first hunt; I merely wished to know where it was taking place.” She glanced back down at the twinkling lights below and worked her wings hard. She was aware of her sister, as well as the Nephilim brother hovering a few feet above them both. Everyone else had taken off in all directions so the skies around them were desolate. Mydaiel hesitated – she still did not know where she was supposed to go or what exactly she was supposed to do. She glanced at Sarielle and silently hoped her elder sibling would answer her this time. “What am I supposed to do? How do I know which to slay?”

Sarielle shifted one wing so the next downstroke brought her closer and she gripped Mydaiel by the chin. “Fly, Mydaiel. Descend to Earth like the force you are. You will know what to do, just as you knew with your blades. It is in you to know,” Sarielle replied. Then her face warped to one of concern. “But we must not linger here, Mydaiel. We have a mission to accomplish and it is not safe to remain idle and exposed.”

Mydaiel cocked her head at Sarielle’s statement. They were high enough up that they would not be seen; she could fathom what sort of danger they could possibly be in.

There was a loud whistling ringing in her ears, a mix of roaring wind and a sound akin to someone dragging a sword against rough stone. Mydaiel winced. The noise grew louder, morphing into a deafening roar.

“Mydaiel, move!” Sarielle shouted over the sound. Mydaiel twisted to look at her sister just in time for Sarielle to plant her boots against Mydaiel’s chest and shove her into a backwards flip through the air. Mydaiel watched in horror as her sister bring her sword up to deflect a swinging blow of a thick, bristle-haired arm sporting wicked talons that looked about as long as her forearm. The rest of the beast was a hairy shadow with pulsing red eyes and a maw with yellowed fangs jutting past thin lips and neon trails of drool. The edges of the monster were hazy coils of smoke, and the stench like a thousand rotten corpses made Mydaiel’s nose wrinkle.

Sarielle managed to shove the beast back, despite it being three times her size. Two of the Nephilim brothers descended on it then, stabbing at its neck and skeletal wings.

Sarielle spun around and grabbed Mydaiel by the wrist, dragging her through the air. Shaking herself out of her daze, Mydaiel flew alongside her sister as they streaked through the sky. “Do not ever linger in the air on Earth, Mydaiel,” Sarielle warned in a terse hiss. “We are not the only hunters in the sky.”

“What was that thing?” Mydaiel queried. Her heart was still hammering in her chest and the putrid scent still lingered in her nose.

“Something from another world, just as we are,” Sarielle replied.

“There are other beings that hunt humans?” Mydaiel pressed.

Sarielle shook her head. “They are not here for human flesh, Mydaiel. They hunt us; they are the reason the brothers accompany us. They are our guards against the Daeraere.”

Mydaiel shuddered. She curled her arms over her chest and rubbed her upper arms. A few of her feathers gently caressed the flesh on every flap. She did not like the idea of being hunted as well, and she wished her sister had told her earlier of the threat they faced.

“I had not realized we were also hunted.”

Sarielle sighed and her lips were pressed into a grim line, her eyes hard as stone. “There is always something higher on the food chain, Mydaiel. Always. Remember that.”

Mydaiel swallowed the thick lump in her throat and nodded. The creature that had just attacked them still lingered in her mind and some small part of her was desperate to turn tail and fly back to the safety of Avalon.

She almost considered it, but then her gut clenched and her hunger flared. It was a reminder that no matter her unease, she still had a duty to fulfill. Giving herself a shake, she refocused on the task at hand. She angled her wings and dropped through the air, flapping evenly to glide just above the rooftops of the sprawling city. Her vision was different in the dark; glassy and grayed, but still clear. Though the lights of the various buildings and honking cars were both blinding and deafening. As she gazed down at the world, watching the humans scrambling like ants over their concrete pathways, she inhaled sharply and drank in the various scents.

Earth did not have a pleasant air and it made her yearn for the clear, sharp air of Avalon. This was like drinking in smoke from the fire directly, and it made her choke. But beneath the overwhelming stench of the city, she could identify different trails. Some were cleaner than others, but the ones that drew her attention were the rotten ones. They hung in her senses, like dark stains on her mind. The most putrid ones rang through the clearest and on instinct, she tilted her wings and began to follow one such trail.

It led her into a dark, muddy alleyway between two tall buildings. She heard the whimpering before she saw the scene. She had been beaten here and she paused – hovering in the air – to watch the display. It was Charmeine who had found her prey here. A reeking, unshaven man who was crumpled on the ground while Charmeine dragged the tip of her glaive up over one of his legs, pressing just hard enough that a long crimson line opened in its wake.

The man was squealing like a common animal, shaking and trying to drag himself back from her. Blood oozed from several other cuts, and the slit heel that Mydaiel assumed was the first wound Charmeine had opened to down her prey. Her rose feathers were spread behind her and her dark hair caught the wind like a twisted halo. She glanced up and grinned savagely, leaning on her glaive so the blade sunk deep into the man’s calf muscle. He howled and desperately swung at her from below. She kicked him sharply and his head snapped back.

“Well met, sister, but you cannot have my prize. Best be back to your tracking before the night draws to a close,” she called up with a wink. She raised her glaive and – with a quick jerk of her corded arms – slit the human from throat to groin, completing her kill.

Mydaiel dipped her head and shot back up above the buildings where Sarielle was waiting. Now that she scented properly, she could tell which trails were already claimed, so Mydaiel twisted towards one that was void of the Nephilim smell.

Sarielle was silent as they flew, but embarrassment prickled in Mydaiel’s gut at her error.

Get it together.

Her new trail had her flying away from the city, to a large sprawling building on the hill. Here, there were many foul scents, and there were several humans walking up and down the paths along a stone fence that bordered the property. Most were armed, but Mydaiel knew better than to fear them and flew silently above the trees towards the house. It was dark, save for one light on, and Mydaiel banked and fluttered her wings to land on the balcony. She glanced at Sarielle one last time. Her sister’s eyebrows were dipped forward and she seemed terse, but she nodded. There was nothing wrong with taking this kill.

Her confidence renewed, Mydaiel stepped through the open glass door and into the home. The room was a large, lavish bedroom with sharp gray paint and large paintings. There was a man in the room, and the closer Mydaiel got, the more rank his smell became. Of course, it was not a true smell; not one that other humans would detect. His physical stench was coated in powerful oils and perfumes that made Mydaiel want to retch regardless. But the rot in his soul ran deeper than the surface smells, and that was what drew her to him. He wore a dark suit, and a thin metal chain around his neck. His back was to her as he sat at a large desk, counting out small plastic disks that were checked with white and various other colors. He was puffing on a small burning stick. The smoke hung in the room and made her eyes and nose sting.

Soft music was playing in the room – helping to mask her approach – and he paused in his counting to grab a glass full of a red-brown liquid. It had a powerful tang to it too. Mydaiel’s heart fluttered in her chest as she loomed behind his chair, but she reined the nerves in. She had never killed before, but she would make a poor Nephilim if the thought of ending this creature made her squeamish.

He finally seemed to notice his impending danger – or perhaps he had simply felt her shadow fall over him – for he spun his chair around to face her.

Mydaiel saw the shiny black metal gripped in his hand seconds before the shot rang out, echoing in her eardrums and making her wince. She sidestepped the bullet easily and it instead embedded itself in the wall.

The Nephilim moved faster than human beings, and she met his dark brown eyes with a merciless gaze as she stepped forward, drawing one of her sai and driving it up through his gut. The man wheezed as the hilt thudded against his flesh with a dull, wet slap. He coughed once, bloodied spittle flying from his lips to spatter over her face. Then with a wheezing croak, his eyes rolled back and his head lolled. Mydaiel remained motionless for a few heartbeats. It had been incredibly easy to take his life – and she did not feel remorse for it – but she could not help thinking back to Dalna’s words a few days ago. She wondered what her reason truly was.

She did not know this man – not that she needed to – but his crimes and his indecencies were unknown to her. She was sure he deserved it, to have a soul as corrupted as his, but she would likely never know what he was guilty of. So why had she done it? Was it simply because it was what she was groomed to do?

Feeling a little shaken, she tugged her sai from his belly and watched as the stain of his blood blossomed over his shirt like the unfurling petals of a flower.

She gave herself another shake. Now was not the time to dwell on dark thoughts. She grabbed the man by the fabric covering his chest and hauled him easily out of the chair. Sarielle was hovering by the balcony, and her worried expression morphed to a delighted grin when Mydaiel stepped back out into the night.

There was no need for an exchange of words as Mydaiel spread her wings and launched herself back into the air. Sarielle accompanied her up into the sky, where they met with another of the brotherhood. With a nod, Sarielle turned and descended back to the ground to hunt for herself.

The brother jerked his head back the other way and Mydaiel followed him to deliver her kill back to her home. She was famished, but hers was not the only belly to fill tonight. Duty came first.